


Bound by Red Thread

by quantumlittlecat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alpha Brock Rumlow, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kidnapping, Omega Darcy Lewis, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 23,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumlittlecat/pseuds/quantumlittlecat
Summary: Darcy finds that her close relationship with the Avengers and omega status have put a target on her back for HYDRA.  (Terrible summary, I know.)





	1. Good Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a first attempt at fanfiction for me, so keep that in mind! I've got a few chapters already written, and am hoping to update weekly. Let me know what you think!

“Ugh, I still can’t believe it,” Janes huffs, crossing her arms. She squints suspiciously at the Quinjet parked down the tarmac. Darcy sighs and shifts her backpack on her shoulder.

“I know, I know, but it was part of the deal, remember? I’m not even qualified to work in your lab as an assistant, if SHIELD insists on some training so I can at least pass as a pseudo-bodyguard, the least we can do is play along. Maybe they’ll finally stop trying to convince you to replace me.”

Jane purses her lips. “That’s fair I guess. The last post-doc they shoved at me was awful,” she rolls her eyes. “But with you gone, the lab is probably gonna grind to a halt. We’ll run out of poptarts too…”.

Darcy smiles, despite her nerves. “Don’t worry, I already talked to Bruce and Tony about looking after you while I’m gone. Which…now that I say it out loud, sounds like the blind leading the blind, but there’s not much I can do at this point. Besides, I set up a recurring poptart order with Amazon, so the important stuff is covered.”

Jane shoves her hands in the pockets of her lab coat, rocking back onto her heels. “I just worry about you Darce.”

“Because I totally bombed the pre-training fitness test?”

Jane giggles. “Okay, yeah, that’s part of it. I mean, I’ve seen the footage Tony emailed around.”

Darcy blushes and rolls her eyes. “Come on, it wasn’t THAT bad...”

“Darcy Ann Lewis that’s a lie and you know it. You dropped a loaded gun at the firing range and every time you fired you squinted your eyes closed.” Darcy looks down, genuinely embarrassed.

“Janey that’s the whole point. I’m never gonna be a super soldier, but I can at least be competent enough to protect you and the lab long enough for someone more capable to save us. Plus, you heard Agent iPod Thief. It’s this or you tolerate a security detail of jack booted thugs in the lab.” Jane bristles at that.

“None of the other scientists need a security detail, so I don’t really- “

Darcy lets out an incredulous laugh. “None of the other scientists are omegas- “Jane looks ready to interrupt to remind Darcy that she’s also an omega. “-who happen to be bonded to an ancient Norse god,” Darcy continues. Jane blinks at her in confusion. “Did you not know that that’s a huge part of why they want you protected?”

Darcy surveys Jane in amusement. The wheels in her head seem to be turning very, very slowly. For all her brilliance, most social cues and rules seem to fly over her head. Darcy thinks that once Jane hit her PhD anything not related to astrophysics got dumped from her brain to make more room for science. It would also explain her inability to even boil water for pasta, or properly match outfits. Darcy silently thanks god that Jane has no conferences to attend while she’s doing SHIELD training. Lord knows if Darcy isn’t there to help her, she’ll try to make her speech in her favorite plaid pants and striped shirt. It’ll be a miracle if Jane consumes a single vegetable while Darcy is gone. Finally, it seems that Jane gets it.

“So, this is because of Thor? They’re scared of him?”

Darcy nods. But before she can say anything, she’s interrupted.

“Miss Lewis?”

Darcy looks over the jack-booted thug who’s apparently been sent to escort her to the Quinjet. Young, dressed in that obnoxious tactical gear they all wear, and entirely too serious for the job he’s doing. Darcy wonders if he’s just new. There’s no way this is a good assignment for him otherwise. He’s essentially a glorified babysitter, shuttling Darcy from Stark Tower to whatever god-awful training facility she’s headed to. She inhales subtly, trying to catch his scent. Beta. It figures. There’s no way SHIELD would send an alpha to escort her. For as far as Omegan rights had advanced, there were some things that were still not done.

Darcy eyes him thoughtfully. His demeanor makes more sense now. SHIELD definitely has a hierarchy; wherein alpha agents would always be preferred over betas. This may be his big break, being able to be in the “field”, albeit not really, as opposed to sitting behind a desk. She feels bad for him, in a way.

But not too bad.

“Would you mind carrying my bags?” Darcy eyes the heavy suitcases piled next to her. The agent preens, and Darcy almost rolls her eyes.

“Of course, Miss Lewis,” he says, puttering off to load the suitcases onto the jet. Darcy catches Jane’s eye and can’t help grinning. For all that she despises the stereotypes of omegas being weak and incapable, she’s not above using them to her advantage to get out of doing things.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bat your eyelashes at him,” Jane smirks. “You know you’re not gonna be able to get away with that at this training thing, right?”

Darcy sighs heavily. “I know. Gotta do it while I still can, right?” Jane laughs faintly and it’s just at this moment that Darcy realizes she’s holding back tears. “Oh Janey, no,” Darcy cries, pulling Jane into crushing hug.

“Sorry,” Jane mumbles into Darcy’s shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” Darcy whispers back. The hug lasts longer than expected, and when they break apart, Darcy finds herself brushing away tears of her own. She lets out a long shaky breath. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, see you soon,” Jane replies. And before Darcy loses her nerve, she turns and briskly walks across the tarmac and up the ramp of the jet. She turns to look back just as the ramp is closing behind her, to see Jane furiously waving goodbye. Darcy waves back quickly, and the ramp clicks shut.


	2. A Turn for the Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day just to get it started. Hope to update with chapter 3 this weekend!

The plane ride is uncomfortably long. Darcy shifts in her seat, legs starting to cramp from sitting so long.

“So where exactly are we headed?” she asks the beta agent, who’s seated across from her. He doesn’t respond. She begins tapping her foot impatiently. “Does that lack of a response mean that I don’t have the clearance to know where I’m going? Or that you don’t know where we’re going?”

He still doesn’t respond. Darcy grumbles under her breath. She leans back as far as possible in her seat and tries to nap.

When the jet lands, she pulls herself to her feet, groaning. As the ramp lowers, she cranes her neck to peer out, trying to see where exactly they’ve landed. No such luck. The jet appears to be parked in some kind of hangar, with no clues as to where that hangar could be.

Someone nearby clears their throat, and Darcy swivels towards the sound. A small, fit female agent stands at the bottom of the ramp, holding a clipboard. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, which, when combined with her perfectly pressed uniform gives her a rather severe appearance.

“Miss Lewis. We’ve been expecting you.” Darcy nods and reaches for her backpack. “No, no. Just leave your bags, someone will be taking them to your quarters for you. I’ve been instructed to take you straight to Medical.”

Darcy walks down the ramp, a little unsure. “Medical?” She questions. The agent looks annoyed at her lack of speed.

“Standard procedure,” the agent snaps. Darcy cringes. She’s not off to a good start. She quickens her pace, and before she’s even off the ramp, the agent has turned and marched off, expecting Darcy to follow. Darcy has to power walk to keep up. She’s not cut out for running. Or fast walking, as it were. The agent leads her through a maze of hallways that Darcy barely has time to pay attention to as she struggles to keep up. Eventually the conference rooms and offices morph into labs and then the agent stops abruptly in from of a large set of glass doors. Darcy almost bumps into her; the stop was so sudden.

The agent turns on her heel and gives Darcy an overly sweet smile. “You’re expected back in the hangar after Medical. Do you remember how to get back? Or do I need to come back and escort you again?” She asks, the condescension clear in her voice.

Darcy, flustered and embarrassed, looks down at her feet. “N-no…” she trails off. The agent huffs and quickly rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll be back to escort you then. Right through those doors, they’re expecting you.” The agent points at the glass doors. Through them, Darcy can see doctors in white coats milling around.

Darcy walks up to the door, and when she turns back to look at the agent, she’s already power walked off. Darcy takes a deep breath. So far things have gone rather poorly, but she hopes that she can turn it around. _Not everyone can be as mean and cold as that agent, right?_ she thinks. Steeling herself, she pushes open the doors and steps through.

There appears to be no receptionist’s desk in Medical. Darcy stays rooted to one spot, slightly overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the nurses, doctors, patients, and agents all moving around. Before her anxiety gets out of hand, she squares her shoulders and looks for someone to ask about where to go. She may be dazed, stressed, and still have a crick in her neck from napping at a weird angle on the jet, but she’s not about to give up. _Get it together Darcy,_ she pumps herself up.

She makes eye contact with a short, plump nurse across the room. The nurse’s face lights up when she sees Darcy, and she swiftly makes her way through the crowd of people to Darcy.

“Darcy Lewis?” Darcy nods, and the nurse smiles at her. The smile is genuine, as far as Darcy can tell. What a relief. _Maybe the other agent was a one-off_ , she thinks. “We’ve been expecting you. I’m Linda.” Linda extends her hand to Darcy and gives a short, firm handshake. “Follow me, I’ll help get you started.”

Darcy follows Linda down a hallway, before being ushered into a small examination room. Darcy settles herself in a chair next to the examination table. Linda bustles around the room, pulling out forms and a clipboard. She hands them over to Darcy with a smile. “Just get started on these and I’ll be back in a few for vitals,” she chirps. “Oh! We’ll also be taking some blood, have you eaten today?” She looks at Darcy expectantly.

“Um, yeah,” Darcy replies, thinking back to the farewell breakfast she made with Jane earlier in the day. Jane. The thought of her sitting alone in the lab in New York makes Darcy’s heart hurt. She focuses on the medical forms in front of her. Basic stuff. Date of birth, medications, designation. _You’d think SHIELD would have this all on file by now_ , she thinks to herself. No matter, it’s basic information, and just moments after she finishes the forms, Linda returns.

“Knock, knock!” She exclaims, poking her head around the door. “All done with the forms? Great!” She glances over the forms quickly. “Which birth control are you on?” She peers at Darcy over her reading glasses.

“The implant.” Darcy shoots her a questioning look.

“Good, good. We just encourage anyone who’s a kidnapping risk to be on something other than the pill, you know, just in case,” Linda explains. Darcy had never thought about that before. Since Jane’s research was vindicated, she’s been a kidnapping risk. It had never occurred to her. The thought makes her stomach churn. Speaking of pills…

“And you’re on the pill form of suppressants?” Linda asks.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t aware there was another form of suppressants,” Darcy says. Linda hums thoughtfully.

“Not commercially available yet, but we’ve got an implant and injection form in testing we can set you up with. Again, kidnapping risk,” she looks at Darcy with a pitying look. “And when was your last heat?”

Darcy makes a face. Tough question. “Uhhh…maybe when I was seventeen?” Darcy remembers it was before she left for college, as her parents insisted that she go on suppressants before she moved out of their house. At home, she had had a scent proof, sound proof room specifically designed for heats. One of the perks of having a mother who was also an omega.

“Hmm. Since it’s been more than five years, we’ll have to run some blood tests to clear you for the shot, but it should be no problem.” Linda goes through all of Darcy’s vitals, recording them on the forms. “Well, that just about does it,” she smiles. “I’ll send the doctor in to give your immunizations and then you can come for bloodwork. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Darcy smiles back. She was feeling better. She could do this. Linda gave a little wave before ducking out of the exam room. _I wish I had my phone_ , Darcy thinks to herself. She’ll text Jane that she landed safely when she got to her room. Whenever that would be.

A loud knock on the door startles her. The door opens, and Darcy’s nose prickles with the scent of alpha. For a moment, she’s scared, but with another deep breath, she smells it. Bonded. So not a threat. The alpha doctor strides into the room, clad in a blindingly white lab coat. His hair is graying, and he looks to be about her father’s age. He doesn’t smile at her like Linda did, but Darcy gives him a tentative smile.

“You’re due for three immunizations,” he states. Not waiting for a response from her, he retrieves three syringes from the cabinet, along with two large vials. Next, he pulls a keyring out of his pocket, unlocks a small cabinet, and extracts a third vial, smaller than the other two. He prepares the shots and turns to her. “Left arm or right arm?” He looks at her expectantly.

“Left,” Darcy replies, rolling up the left sleeve of her t-shirt. Darcy braces herself. She hates shots. “Do you mind if I look away while you give me shots? I hate needles.” The doctor gives her an amused look.

“That’s fine.” He rolls the small table with the shots on it over to her. She looks away. “Here’s number one,” he says. Darcy squeezes her eyes shut, as she feels a strong pinch in her arm. She lets out a shaky breath. “And here’s two,” he states. Another strong pinch and deep breath. “All good?” The doctor asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just get it over with,” Darcy mutters.

“Deep breath, here’s the last one,” the doctor intones calmly.

The third pinch is much less, and immediately, Darcy feels that something is wrong. She feels woozy, and she can’t stand. Her vision begins to go black at the edges. She can’t seem to hear anything, but she’s certain the doctor is trying to talk to her. Everything is blurry, but the blackness at the edge of her vision is growing, growing, growing, until the darkness swallows her vision entirely. Vaguely she can hear movement around her, but then there’s nothing, as she slips into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah actually posting is so nerve wracking! I've been reading fanfic for so long but have never gotten the courage to post myself. Hope you liked it!


	3. The Reveal

She’s cold. She’s sitting, on a chair maybe? It’s hard to tell. Her vision is still blurry but clearing rapidly. She tries to shift her legs, but realizes, panicking, that she can’t seem to move them. Her shoulders hurt, and as she attempts to move her arms, realizes she can’t move them either. As her vision finally clear completely, she tries to get her bearings.

Gray. Lots of gray.

Concrete walls. No windows.

She looks down and sees her legs bound to the chair she’s sitting in. Feeling what she can with her hands, she discovers her hands are zip-tied behind her, at a somewhat awkward angle. Immediately she begins to struggle but stays as quiet as possible. She doesn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she’s awake, hoping that if she can get herself free, she may have the element of surprise on her side in her escape.

The struggling proves fruitless, and as she begins to try to tip the chair over in a last-ditch attempt to free herself, there’s a loud clang behind her, the sound of metal on metal.

“Ah, Miss Lewis, glad to see you’re awake.”

Any fear she had before is gone, replaced with fury. Fury at her inability to escape, fury at this faceless asshole for keeping her like this, fury at SHIELD for putting her in this position.

“Who the fuck are you?” She snarls. There’s a sound of a metal chair being dragged across the concrete floor. Darcy flinches at the unpleasant sound. The man sits down in the chair, facing her. He’s tall, lean, bald, and wearing glasses. He looks at her appraisingly but remains silent.

“I said, who the FUCK are you? Is this some kind of SHIELD training thing? Are you SHIELD?” She demands. He smirks, pausing for a moment.

“Yes and no,” he answers coolly.

“What the hell does that even mean?” He’s clearly amused, toying with her, which makes her even angrier. She wants to scream, hit him, something, anything.

“It means that I am an agent of SHIELD, but not in the sense that you’re thinking. This isn’t a training exercise. There is no training exercise,” he explains.

“What are you talking about?” The panic is starting to rise back up in Darcy. _I’m not cut out for this, I can’t even run fast enough to escape_ , she thinks miserably.

“You’re not here for SHIELD training Miss Lewis. This isn’t even a SHIELD base.” Her blood runs cold. _Is this some kind of kidnapping? But everything was so official, Agent iPod Thief was involved and everything._ Her face must show her confusion and panic as clear as day because he clarifies. “On paper at least, this is a SHIELD base. SHIELD sent you here for training. But no one here is SHIELD.”

Darcy’s mind races. The agent on the jet, the one who took her to Medical. Linda. Sweet, kind, Linda. _If they aren’t SHIELD, who could they possibly be?_

“Who are you?” Darcy says, voice barely above a whisper. She’s never felt so scared in her life. Not in New Mexico, not with the Dark Elves, but here. Here, in this grimy concrete box of a room, she’s more terrified than she’s ever been before.

“Miss Lewis, what do you know about HYDRA?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than the first two chapters, but if I get another chapter written, chapter four will be up by Sunday!


	4. The Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy finds out what HYDRA wants from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! It really encourages me to update more frequently :)

“HYDRA? Like the World War Two Nazi group?” Darcy’s confused, confounded almost.

“The very same. You see Miss Lewis, HYDRA didn’t end with the Nazis. ‘When you cut off one head’ and all that. The Nazis were a lovely host organization, but when the host dies, the parasite must find a new host, or perish. Correct?”

“Are you really comparing yourself to a parasite?” Darcy grits out. He chuckles.

“In a way, yes. SHIELD has been an excellent host these past seventy years. Yet soon we will outgrow them. But to do so, we need something.” He looks at her pointedly.

“I won’t give it to you.” Darcy sets her jaw determinedly.

“How very brave. I haven’t even told you what we need and you’re already dead set against giving it. We knew this would be the case, of course,” he remarks.

“Have you been spying on me?!” He chuckles again, like this is some kind of sick game, frightening her.

“Miss Lewis you have been under surveillance since the minute Thor touched down in that New Mexico desert. I would even hazard to guess that we know more about than your own mother does.” Darcy feels sick. She thinks back to the early days after Thor’s arrival, imagines some faceless HYDRA goon spying on her at the diner in town, as she slept in the dusty trailer behind the lab. It’s almost too much to think about. Years they’ve been following her, tracking her, probably following her twitter page and maybe even reading her diary.

“What do you want from me?” She chokes out.

“I thought that much was obvious Miss Lewis. We want Doctor Foster’s research.” She looks at him, incredulous.

“Then why kidnap me?” He sighs.

“Kidnapping Foster would attract too much attention, of course. And besides, the research has all been encrypted. Quite well in fact. Encrypted by you.”

“I’m not decrypting it for you,” Darcy blurts out. He smiles at her good-naturedly.

“I didn’t expect you would. Besides, a one-time access to Foster’s research would be useless. We require constant, unfettered access to her documents, tests, methods, and findings.”

“Well I’m not just gonna give you access to the server it’s stored on,” Darcy sniffs. “Not. Happening.” She’s preparing herself. She knows where this is headed. Some bullshit ‘we have ways of making you talk’ speech, probably followed by some torture. Real live torture. Darcy’s not sure if she’s prepared, but she has to be. For Jane.

“Of course not, that’d be far too obvious,” he explains. “When we’re through with you, you’ll willingly hand over any research, past, present, or future, that we ask of you.” _As if_ , she thinks.

“Pretty fucking sure of yourself there. I’m not telling you anything. Not now, not ever. No matter what you do to me,” she hisses. She knows he’s going to call her bluff, she just knows it. But she can’t just cave just yet, she’s got to stay strong for Jane.

“We already know that torturing you would lead to few long-term results, Miss Lewis. Our plan is much more long-term than some minor torture.”

“Well, are you gonna tell me?” Darcy demands. “You gonna do that whole cut-rate villain thing where you spill the whole plan before it happens, so I can escape and stop you?” He sighs and considers her question for a moment.

“Hmm. If anything, I think knowing what’s coming might work in our favor. Increase the terror and all that. So I suppose there’s no harm in revealing what’s in store for you.” He looks down at her, barely containing a grin. “Tell me, Miss Lewis, how long do you think you’ve been unconscious?” Darcy thinks for a moment.

“A few hours maybe, why?”

“Miss Lewis, you’ve been kept unconscious for three days. When was the last time you took a suppressant pill?”

It feels as though the floor has opened up underneath her. Darcy does the math. If she’s been out for three days, plus the day she came in she hadn’t taken one yet, that’s almost four days. Past the point of no return. Even if she got on them again right this second, it wouldn’t be enough to stop her oncoming heat. The possibilities nauseate her. “Are you going to-“ she can’t finish, beginning to dry heave at the thought.

“Bond you with one of the HYDRA faithful? Create a bond that allows for control over you, to the point where you’ll be a mole within the very heart of the Avengers? Yes, that’s the general idea. Long term, we’ve got other plans too, but it won’t do to show too much of our hand this early, would it?” He moves to stand.

“Monster.” Darcy chokes out. He’s standing now, looking down at her. “You’re a fucking monster,” she grits out. “You’re a fucking monster!!” She screams up at him. He smiles down at her maliciously, before walking out of her field of vision. From farther away, she hears him.

“I’m well aware Miss Lewis,” he calls back before the clang of the metal door tells her that she’s alone again.

Darcy tries fruitlessly to get her breathing under control. She’s gasping for air like she’s drowning, which is exactly how she feels. She wracks her brain for any information that might be helpful. There’s a word for what they’re going to do, she remembers it, somewhere in the back of her mind, but she can’t focus long enough to think of it. She tries her yoga breathing, which seems to help, and then it hits her. _Trauma Bond_ , her brain whispers. That’s what it is.

She remembers reading about it in high school. College maybe. The details are fuzzy, but she remembers that even reading about it made her feel sick. The omega of the pair is obviously in heat, she recalls. _Not just in heat, in pain. In lots and lots of pain_ , her brain reminds her. _So, what? They’re going to push me towards heat, torture me, and throw me at an alpha who’ll bond me and keep me in line with HYDRA?_ So? _You’ll get to go back to Jane, and you’ll ask for help, and they’ll help you._

_Not if you don’t think you need help_ , her brain reminds her unhelpfully. _Besides, bonds are forever. Unbreakable. Even if you ask for help, there’s nothing they can do._

That thought makes her want to curl up into a ball and die. Even if she were to escape, she’d still be bonded. Forever. And if somehow her alpha died or was killed, she’d most likely die soon after. Bondmates always die right after the other. Any dreams Darcy had about falling in love, having a loving bond, starting a family, had just been snatched away. And there’s nothing she can do about it. Part of her wants to escape, wants to at least try, but a dark part of herself has already resigned itself to this fate. _I’m not strong enough to fight anyone, I’m not fast enough to run from anyone, and there’s no chance in hell of me talking my way out of this_ , she thinks dejectedly.

So, she cries. Sobs. Loudly and for a long time. Until her voice is gone, her eyes hurt, and she feels vaguely dehydrated. A good, long cry usually helps her get her head on straight. This time is no exception. She can try to resist the torture, resist the bond, and she’ll try as hard as she can. She’ll fight as long as she can. But deep down, escape feels impossible. She’s so busy formulating a plan of how to resist torture as long as possible, that she barely notices the sickly sweet gas slowly being pumped into the room. But as soon as she notices the smell, her eyes have already started to droop, and before she can even struggle, she’s unconscious again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew long chapter! I have nothing to do this weekend so maybe another chapter tomorrow? We'll see.


	5. In the Cell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lack of updates! Hurricane Florence made landfall super close to my house, so things have been pretty crazy. Hope to be back to normal now as WiFi and power are back. Thanks for your patience!

Some time had passed, Darcy couldn’t tell how much. But when she drifts back into consciousness, she can feel the curl of oncoming heat in the pit of her stomach. Her limbs feel achy, and she feels slightly overheated. She wracks her brain. She must know of some way to slow the progression towards heat. _I’ll just stay calm, they’re banking on me freaking out to get to me._ She steadies herself and surveys the room.

The room looks similar to the one she was in previously. The walls are concrete, as is the floor. There’s a small metal toilet and sink, comparable to ones Darcy once saw in a documentary about prisons. In one corner is what looks like a small cot. _Couldn’t they have at least dumped me on the cot?_ Darcy picks herself up off the floor to inspect the room. _There’s got to be something in here to help me_ , she thinks to herself. But the sink and toilet are bolted down, as is the cot. There’s not even slats or springs under the mattress she could arm herself with. _Damn_.

Darcy plops herself down on the cot and crosses her arms. The mattress in her freshman year dorm was softer, and that’s saying something. Her stomach rumbles, low and insistent. Darcy wonders how long it’s been since she’s eaten. _That must be part of it_ , she muses, _keeping me weak must push me towards heat faster_. She rubs her arms, noticing the goosebumps dotting her arms. She looks more closely. _Are those…injection marks?_ She furrows her brow and looks more closely. There appear to be several injection marks along the inner part of her arms. The panic begins to well up in her chest. _What the fuck._ She steadies herself and tries to even out her breathing. She lays on the cot, curling into the fetal position. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to think of something happy. Images of her and Jane in the lab together come to her mind, and tears slip silently down her face. She doesn’t know how long she lays like that, but eventually, cried out, sleep overtakes her. She awakens sometime later, dried tear tracks on her cheeks. She lays there, silent, resigned almost.

The next few days pass with little change. Occasionally a small container of water and an energy bar is pushed through a slot in the door. Again, eerily reminiscent of a prison. _Although this is essentially a prison cell, isn’t it?_ The only way she can approximate how much time has passed is the growing feeling in the pit of her stomach of oncoming heat. The ache has gotten stronger, deeper almost. Darcy has nothing to compare it against, as her first and only heat had been back when she was a teenager.

She can tell it’s coming soon. She feels overheated, sticky with her own sweat. Not even laying on the cold concrete floor is enough to take the edge off. She works hard to keep her breathing even, but often finds herself panting. As the hours tick by, she can feel herself becoming more and more desperate. There’s an urge, an urge Darcy doesn’t dare examine for too long, to find an alpha, and…Darcy stops the thought in its tracks. _I’m NOT doing that._

“I won’t,” she whispers aloud.

“You won’t what?” A familiar voice intones. Darcy rolls over on the floor to face the door. There, framed by the doorway, is the man from before. Darcy tries to muster the energy to sneer at him but fails. Groaning, she presses her forehead to the cool concrete ground. The man inhales deeply.

“So close. Time to give it a little push,” he sighs. “Come along.” Darcy gazes up at him, her eyes glassy and confused. “Up,” he commands. Darcy moves to pull herself off the ground but finds she doesn’t have the strength to stand. Sitting, she uses all her energy to glower up at him. He sneers down at her. He clears his throat expectantly and two uniformed goons appear at the door. “Please help me escort Miss Lewis to…” he glances at Darcy, “well, wherever we’re headed.” The two goons step forward and Darcy shrinks back. They smell... wrong. _Betas_ , her mind supplies unhelpfully. She tries to scramble backwards on the hard floor, but can’t seem to move fast enough. _Wrong, wrong, wrong, not alpha, not alpha, not alpha_ , her brain screams at her. But the two men grab her firmly by her upper arms and lift her up. Feet brushing against the ground, they half-drag-half-carry her through the door, headed god knows where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully another chapter (or two!) will be up this weekend.


	6. A Brock POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Brock POV, set a few days earlier, while Darcy has already been kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small Brock interlude. Kind of struggling with writer's block, but I have a week off grad school (thanks hurricane), so hopefully more time to write.

Brock leans back in his chair, already irritable. He surveys the rest of his STRIKE team, seated around the conference table. All dressed entirely in black, they appear rather menacing. Brock shifts, adjusting his tactical pants slightly.

“Rollins do you fucking mind,” he snaps. Rollins, who had been tapping his fingers on the table in impatience, stops mid-tap. Everyone in the room is slightly on edge. Their suppressant implants had all been removed two weeks ago. Rumlow can feel he’s just one irritation short of falling into a haze of rage. Or a rut. Or a rage-slash-rut. He rubs his face, trying to take calming breaths. The last time he hit a rut-induced rage, two of his lower ranking STRIKE team members hadn’t made it out alive. After a great deal of HR intervention (which, considering his employer, meant the situation had been particularly grave), Rumlow felt he had a pretty good handle on it. _If only Rollins would stop being so fucking irritating_. He closes his eyes and takes a long, calming breath. Rollins and the rest of the team stiffen in their seats. No one in the room can get the image of last time out of their heads. The rage Rumlow had been in was terrifying, even to seasoned agents like Rollins. Davis’ head had been almost completely separated from his body. Rollins shudders internally. An angry Rumlow was to be avoided at all costs. The door clicks open softly. A tall, older man in a suit steps in. Rumlow slowly opens his eyes.

“Pierce,” Rumlow nods in greeting, looking the older man up and down. It’s almost like every time he sees the man, his suit gets more and more expensive.

“Rumlow,” Pierce addresses him. “Everyone,” he turns to the rest of the team. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve brought you here today.” There are several small nods from around the table. The projector screen descends slowly from the ceiling. Pierce flicks the lights off as the screen lights up. On the screen is a picture of a young woman, in what appears to be the standard ID photo for most SHIELD facilities. Normally Rumlow can control himself impeccably, but being so close to a rut, he finds his eyes practically glued to the screen. She’s got thick, curly brown hair, bright green eyes, and her lips... God, her lips. They’re lush, deep red. Her cleavage is just barely visible, but it has Rumlow almost salivating.

“This,” Pierce gestures to the image, “is why you are here. Miss Darcy Lewis, aged twenty-three, assistant to Doctor Jane Foster, with inside access to the Avengers.”

“So we’re eliminating her?”

“Williams, don’t interrupt. Speak again in this meeting and this opportunity will be taken from you,” Pierce barks. “Miss Lewis is also an unbonded Omega.” Rumlow cocks his head to the side thoughtfully, the wheels in his head turning. He smiles to himself. “I see some of you understand where this is going, but for the slower ones amongst us,” Pierce glances at Williams and Monroe, “I’ll elaborate. Miss Lewis is a reward. A reward and a mission, as it were. The intel Miss Lewis has access to is incalculably valuable. She will make a perfect mole. But like every mole, she will require a handler. A handler who can exert complete and utter control over her in this case. And who better than her Alpha to exert that control.” The other agents murmur to each other quietly. Rumlow’s eyes flash dangerously, and he smiles down at the table.

“Obviously,” Pierce continues, “the selection of this alpha cannot be left up to chance. If you are in this room, your loyalty has been determined to be strong enough for consideration. We’re currently examining your files for certain other characteristics to filter out some more of you and the remaining will…shall we say, have their strength and alpha qualities tested against each other.” Rumlow raises his eyebrows in surprise. That could mean many things. Pierce glances around the room at the agents. “I’ll be more blunt, shall I? You will be stripped of your weapons, and placed in the training area. We will induce a haze, but attempt to keep you from a full-blown rut, and let you… well… pick each other off. Last man standing gets the omega and the mission.”

The conference room erupts into chatter between the agents. They’re excitedly teasing each other about the possibility of being practically gifted an omega on a silver platter, and such a lovely looking one to boot. Rumlow turns the idea over in his head. He’d never really seriously thought about having an omega. Of course, as a kid he had, but since joining HYDRA, he hadn’t considered it an option. With this Darcy woman, he could have an omega, advance his career, and when the mission was over or reached a plateau, he could even consider having a family with her. He had never imagined himself as a father. But, he thinks to himself, omegas like that sort of thing, having babies. He makes eye contact with Rollins across the table. Rollins looks at him with a challenge in his eyes. Rumlow returns the look. He’s already decided that he wants the omega, and he’ll be damned if he lets Rollins have her, let alone some other idiot on his team.

Pierce sweeps his gaze over the STRIKE team. “Someone will be back shortly to let you know if you’ve made the cut. For those of you making it to the next step, good luck. I’ll be seeing one of you very soon.” He closes the door behind himself with a soft click. On his way out, Rumlow can swear Pierce’s gaze rests on him longer than on anyone else. After several tense minutes, Pierce’s assistant returns with the list of those cleared for the next step.

Rumlow’s name is the first on the list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	7. Linda Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linda's back and Darcy gets clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grad school: The WiFi is back up, so you can work from home and won't be too far behind.  
> Me: Cool! *writes fanfiction instead of writing code*

Darcy is too dazed to pay much attention to the hallways passing by. The goons’ grip on her arms is too tight, but Darcy has no energy to fight it. Barely conscious, she realizes she’s been placed on what appears to be a hospital bed.

“Can’t we just knock her out for this?” One of the goons grouses. There’s movement around her and everything rapidly fades to black.

She awakens to hands pulling her from the bed.

“Good, you’re up,” a familiar voice chirps. The face in front of her is hazy, but rapidly becoming clearer.

“Linda?” Darcy’s voice comes out raspy, almost unidentifiable to her as her own voice. “Here to save me?” She manages to get out. Linda smiles warmly at her.

“Here to get you disinfected, sweetheart. Can’t have you smelling like an alpha or a beta where you’re going.” At Darcy’s panicked expression, Linda clucks her tongue in sympathy. “Don’t worry, we’ve cleaned you up, made you presentable.” Darcy is then acutely aware of how smooth her legs feel under what appears to be a flimsy hospital gown. A sick thought crosses her mind. _They wouldn’t have_. But deep down she knows what they’ve done. Linda continues to try to lift her out of the bed. Darcy tries to resist, but she’s feeling unbearably overheated, and the pains in the pit of her stomach are becoming more and more insistent. “Come on now,” Linda says, attempting to pull Darcy’s hospital gown over her head. Darcy crosses her arms tightly over her chest in an attempt to stop her. Linda huffs in frustration. “Dear, you’re going to have to take this off one way or another. I’d prefer not to have to call in a guard to help me.”

The thought of someone holding her down right now, touching her in this state of vulnerability has her panicking, tears welling up in her eyes. She puts her arms down at her sides, limp, and Linda pulls the gown over her head. Darcy gazes down at herself. She’s…smooth.

And suddenly what the cut-rate villain said before feels much more real. She’s naked. In a room, god knows where. With nothing to defend herself with. On the verge of heat. About to be served up to some HYDRA alpha on a silver platter like a sticker for a job well done. And no one is looking for her. No one even knows she’s gone. _You’re supposed to be at training for what, eight weeks? Twelve?_ Through the fog in her brain, Darcy can’t quite recall. _No one will be looking for you for three months…imagine what they could do to you in three months._ Darcy sobs aloud. And once she starts she can’t stop. Sobs wracking her body, she starts to tip over. Either to comfort her or to prevent her from falling, Linda reaches out and grabs her arm. Darcy sobs harder.

“No, stop,” she gets out between sobs.

“Come on sweetheart, soon it’ll all be okay,” she coos to Darcy.

“No no no no no,” Darcy cries out, punctuated by sobs. Linda sternly begins to navigate Darcy towards a door. Darcy changes tactics at the thought of being led out of wherever this was, naked. “Please, please no, please,” she begs, stumbling along behind the nurse. The door slides open and Linda turns back to Darcy.

“I can’t go any farther with you, wouldn’t be sterile,” she tries to give Darcy a reassuring smile. Beyond the door is white. All Darcy can see is whiteness. And suddenly Linda is shoving her through the doorway into lord only knows what.

As soon as Darcy crosses the threshold the door hisses shut behind her and seals itself. Frantically turning in circles, Darcy sees nothing on the walls or the ceiling but white. A small drain sits in the middle of the floor. The room is not much bigger than a shower stall. As Darcy collapses against the wall, there’s a loud _CLICK_ , and water begins to stream down from the ceiling. The cool water is soothing on Darcy’s burning skin, and she slumps down, sitting against the bare white wall. As if sensing that the cold water was pleasant, someone or something begins to crank up the heat of the water.

Normally, Darcy was a person who would take her showers in water so close to boiling it would turn her skin slightly pink. But with her skin so hot and uncomfortable, and every touch against it painful, the warming water is beyond agonizing. She feels more alert, the pain jolting her awake. Over the sound of the falling water, Darcy can hear herself moaning and whimpering in pain. After what feels like an eternity, the water shuts off. Darcy groans in relief, but her reprieve is short-lived. In its place, warm air is pushed from the ceiling, and Darcy feels as though she’s trapped under a hand dryer in a public bathroom. Her skin feels like it’s literally melting off, and Darcy wants to scream. She does scream. Loudly. Repeatedly. With what feels like her last ounce of strength, she pounds on the walls, begging someone, anyone, to let her out.

Either because someone heard her pleas, or because her hair is finally dry, a door opens on one of the walls. Darcy can’t be certain, but she’s pretty sure it’s not the same way she came in. Nevertheless, desperate to escape the assault of the air, she hauls herself through the door, half walking, half dragging herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think!


	8. Inside the Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her captors push Darcy towards heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is...pretty dark. The tags have been updated to reflect this. So for this chapter, content warnings for torture and mentions of sexual assault are in place. If you think you may be triggered by something in this chapter, I'll put more detailed warnings in the notes at the bottom so you can decide for yourself.

She finds herself in what appears to be a glass box, with a few air holes punched in the walls. The floor, concrete, and above her, what appears to be a large air vent. Though her brain is still hazy, the pain has made her more attentive. She assesses the ceiling vent to be too high for her to reach. _Unless I had something to stand on…_ Darcy scans the box and the room surrounding it. Her eyes land on a familiar face. Shrieking, she moves to cover herself.

“Now, now, Miss Lewis, we’re all friends here,” her captor waves his hand dismissively at her. “But if you must cover yourself there’s a sterile robe to your right.” Darcy swivels and her eyes land on a flimsy white piece of cloth. It’s all she’s got, so she swiftly shrugs it on. Her captor rolls his eyes. “Comfortable?” He grins at her mockingly. Darcy narrows her eyes at him. “Well, shall we?”

He nods at a technician behind him. The technician putters away at a screen, hidden from Darcy’s view. A low hum starts up. Darcy feels a slight breeze. Furrowing her brow, she looks up at the vent above her head.

“Hmmm, yes, we’re using your scent,” Darcy shoots him a quizzical look, “for the alphas of course.” Darcy goes white as a sheet. “Don’t worry, you smell delectable,” he assesses her slowly, looking her up and down. She feels violated, more so than when he saw her without the robe. “If I were in any position to have you myself, I’d have you on my cock in a heartbeat,” he growls, eyes glittering dangerously.

Darcy presses herself into the back corner of the glass box, putting as much distance between herself and her captor as possible. The thought of him… _no, no, don’t think about it_ , she stops the horrible train of thought before it can swallow her up. Her captor strides to the glass box and presses his forehead to the glass. He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes closing in enjoyment.

“Mmm. There’s the fear. Exquisite.” There’s a faint sound, muffled by their concrete surroundings and some distance. Almost like a roar. “Excellent. It’s working.” At Darcy’s clear confusion, he smirks. “Would you like to see?” He calls to the technician in the corner. “See if we can pull up a live feed from the training area. Let’s give Miss Lewis a little show.”

A few moments later, a large screen on the wall to Darcy’s right lights up with what looks like security footage. It’s a bit fuzzy, but she can very clearly see figures running around on the screen, grappling with each other. It could be just shadows, but the ground seems to be dark with blood. Darcy’s stomach churns.

“We’re pumping your scent right into the room with them. Look at them. So well trained. Can we get the audio?” He snaps at the technician. The audio comes blasting through speakers in her glass box, and it brings Darcy to her knees. The snarling, yelling, and sound of blows landing are enough to make Darcy’s panic spike. Darcy dry heaves with revulsion, and the fighting on the screen seems to pick up in tempo and intensity.

“Stop,” she cries out. “Shut it off, please make it stop.” Her captor motions to the technician and the volume of the fighting decreases. His gaze flickers between the screen and Darcy.

“Lovely. Let’s see if we can’t do that again hmm?”

He turns on his heel, walks to the wall and grabs something off a rack. Darcy gulps deep breaths and tries to get her shaking under control. He returns carrying what looks like a baton of some kind. He runs his fingertips along the edge of an air hole in the glass. “I could give a long, monologuing speech here about pain and what’s about to happen to you, but really, I’d rather just show you.”

In one swift motion, he slides the baton through the opening and jabs Darcy with it. She hears the crackle of electricity before she feels it. The pain of the stun baton is unlike any pain she has ever experienced. White spots appear in her vision, and everything blurs. Her legs completely give out and she collapses onto the floor. Her muscles continue to seize for several more moments. She whimpers softly, curling into herself. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tears threaten to leak down her face. Her captor regards her coldly.

“You know I have to do it again, don’t you sweetheart?” Darcy just sobs in response. Her entire body is shaking and she can’t seem to stop. She’s unable to distinguish between the pain of her impending heat and the pain of the stun baton. Before she can catch her breath, the baton hits her again.

The pain is too much, and Darcy finds herself moaning in agony. He hits her again. She cries out even louder. Again. She’s screaming, begging him to stop, begging him to kill her, begging for someone, anyone to save her. Again. She can’t summon words. She just screams and screams and screams, high pitched and keening, until even her ability to cry out is lost. Only then does he stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torture - Sitwell uses the stun baton on Darcy to push her towards heat  
> Mentions of sexual assault - Sitwell tells Darcy if he could, he would rape her
> 
> Phew! That chapter was kind of tough to write. As always, let me know what you think! Your comments make me so excited to write more, and I love reading them!!


	9. Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The torture is over, but the ordeal isn't over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter. Hopefully another Brock POV chapter will be up later today!

The technician signals to her captor, and he takes a step back from the glass.

“Well that does it,” Darcy looks up at him, eyes red and face blotchy. He clucks his tongue at her. “Don’t look like that sweet thing, you’ve done so well. You’ll be a good match for him, he needs a toy he can’t easily break.” He chuckles as Darcy casts her gaze down.

When she looks up again, he’s gone, replaced by two figures in what look like hazmat suits. For a moment she doesn’t understand, but then she realizes; no smell. She can’t smell them. At all. And it’s a testament to how far gone she is that she actually misses the smell of her captor. The thought makes her feel even more ill. If even his scent is good to her, she has no hope against whatever alpha they’re about to throw at her.

One of the glass sides of the box slides down, and Darcy tries to push herself even further into the corner. But their gloved hands reach out and grab her, holding tight. Darcy lets out a whimper despite herself. Even more troubling, she can’t determine whether the whimper is one of pain, because of the sensitivity of her shocked muscles, or one of pleasure. The heat in the pit of her stomach has spread out to her limbs. They feel tingly, buzzing almost. A primal part of her brain is screaming to be touched, no matter what Darcy’s conscious mind wants.

The figures in hazmat suits drag her down an empty hallway, stopping in front of a very secure metal door. One reaches out to tap on a keypad and the door slides open. With a quick shove, Darcy is across the threshold and the door slides shut behind her. Alone again, she dejectedly looks around the room. There’s a door on the far wall, which she assumes leads to a bathroom. Because dead center in the room is a bed. Not like the bed in her cell. A real bed. With pillows. And sheets. And it looks so soft the primal part of Darcy’s brain is screaming at her to fling herself onto the bed, cocoon herself in the soft blankets, and make a nest from the pillows.

_Soft. Soft. Soft. Soft._ Her hindbrain chants at her. Darcy shakes her head to clear her mind. _Stop it. Gotta find something, anything to help you._ But there’s nothing she can see that she could use as a weapon. _Not that you would have the strength to use anything anyways._ The thought knocks the wind out of her sails, if only for a moment.

_Hide._ The thought comes to her out of nowhere. Almost instinctually. Darcy frantically scans the room, and her eyes land on the bed. Faster than she thought possible, she throws herself towards it, robe loosening slightly. She slips onto her hands and knees but continues to scramble towards the bed. She reaches it, and tilts her head from side to side, trying to determine the best way to fit under the bed. She flops to her stomach and grits her teeth. Using the last of her strength, she starts trying to pull herself under the bed using her arms, in a modified sort of army crawl. Before she can even get her head under, there’s a soft _WHOOSH_ behind her. Darcy whips her head towards the door, and there in the doorway, is an imposing figure. She sniffs a small amount, and even from across the room, she can smell him.

_Alpha_ , her hindbrain purrs. Darcy unconsciously takes a second, deeper breath, and everything goes hazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Trying to write a ton while grad school is cleaning up from this hurricane.


	10. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Brock POV from the training area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter is later than I wanted it to be. Have another week off grad school, and my husband's return from deployment keeps getting pushed back. So I'm kinda bummed out and having trouble writing.

The elevator hisses to a stop, and Brock strides into the training area. The other agents are milling around, some leaning against the wall, others speaking with each other in hushed tones. The men don’t stop talking as Brock enters the room, but the mood changes. Rumlow’s presence is commanding, intimidating. Rumlow saunters over to Rollins, giving a slight nod in greeting, and settles leaning against the wall beside him.

“Everyone’s gunning for you,” Rollins murmurs, looking at Rumlow out of the corner of his eye. Rumlow exhales sharply through his nose, as close to a laugh as possible for him. “Don’t act so smug. Once you’re knocked out, I’m next for them to come after.”

“You act like it’s certain that I’ll be knocked out.”

“You genuinely think you’ll be able to take every single one of us out? At once?”

“Us? You gonna come after me too Rollins? Thought we were friends,” Rumlow smirks. Rollins stiffens and sputters for a moment.

“That’s not what I –- that’s –Rumlow, you know what I mean.” Rollins catches Rumlow’s eye and sees the laughter in them. Rollins sighs and they stand in companionable silence, wordlessly observing the other agents. The minutes tick past and Rollins is rather tempted to check his watch. There’s a crackle of static through the speakers mounted on the walls, and a clear voice rings out.

“Agents,” Pierce’s cold voice sounds even less human through the speakers. _Figures, the coward wouldn’t want to risk getting his hands dirty by being down here with us_ , Rumlow sneers. “You’ve all been disarmed before coming in, so that’s out of the way. But I’d like to express that we would like you to refrain from killing each other. STRIKE training is rather expensive, and it would be such a pain to replace you. Maiming is allowed, but we do ask that once you knock another agent out, you leave him. If you would like to leave at any time, you may do so. Though, I dare say that will reflect rather poorly on you. Who’s to say what repercussions that action might have…” he trails off ominously, and the agents exchange glances.

There’s a low hissing sound from somewhere and with it comes the most tantalizing smell Rumlow has ever smelled. Better than all his favorite smells. Better than lavender, freshly mowed grass, the smell of rain, and freshly baked bread all rolled into one. _Omega._ He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes practically rolling back into his head. The scent makes him…not dizzy exactly, but not in his right mind. His vision gets sharper somehow, his hearing seems stronger, and all he can think about is hunting down the source of the smell, pinning it down, and making it his. He sniffs again, and under the glorious smell is an undercurrent of fear and pain. The thought has him growling. _The omega’s mine_. Something, someone is hurting what’s his, damaging it.

Rumlow’s focus is singular. All that matters is the omega. His omega. Anything and anyone in his way must be eliminated. He becomes acutely aware of the other figures in the room with him. He can smell them. _Alphas_ , he mentally snarls. _Wrong, mine,_ the primal part of his brain screams at him. The urge to eliminate them pushes Rumlow towards one of the figures. The logical part of his brain identifies the figure as Johnson, but that part of his mind has taken a backseat to the primal part of his brain. He searches himself for weapons, and finding none, throws himself onto the figure.

Everything is a blur, Rumlow senses himself striking out, landing blows, and moving gracefully through the throng of fighting bodies. But he feels as though he’s moving unconsciously, driven by instinct alone. _Omega, omega, omega,_ the thought hits his brain over and over like the beat of a drum. He continues along in the haze of his rage. He can vaguely sense the feel of warm blood on his hands and on his body, staining his clothes. And then, the smell changes suddenly. There’s a smell of metallic fear and Rumlow’s rage spikes. _She’s hurt, she’s afraid and hurt and she needs him._ The cloud of his rage thickens, and conscious thought is momentarily lost entirely. When it recedes in a moment, he can feel a limp body in his hands, the life draining out of it rapidly. He drops it and moves on, taking down anyone in his path.

The scent of fear increases again, stronger this time, as does Rumlow’s rage. He can feel bones shattering in his grasp, and as the fear spikes again, everything goes black for a long moment. When he finds conscious thought again, Rumlow can see figures downed around him. There’s a dark pool of blood slowly seeping into his boots. The blood of several men intermingling on the grimy concrete floor. He can still smell them, so they’re not all dead. The beautiful smell is indistinct, and growing weaker. He can think more clearly now.

Pierce’s voice crackles over the speakers. “Excellent Rumlow, please proceed to your quarters to clean up, and report to room 411-A immediately after you’ve finished.”

Rumlow proceeds in a haze. The elevator slides open and he steps on. Like a zombie, he makes his way to his room. In the bathroom, he sees his face in the mirror. It doesn’t look like him. His face is smeared with dried blood, and his eyes don’t look like his. It’s like there are a stranger’s eyes staring back at him from the mirror. _It’s been too long since you’ve let yourself go like that._ He shakes himself slightly, breaking eye contact with his reflection.

He cranks up the temperature of the water in the shower, and watches the water, pink with blood, as it streams down the drain. He scrubs every inch of himself. _Need to make a good first impression after all._ He dries himself quickly and sets about grooming himself. He shaves, styles his hair, and even spritzes himself with his favorite cologne before pulling on a clean uniform. He’s practically vibrating with anticipation. The boost to his career is one thing, but the thought of having an omega of his own is intoxicating.

He strides down the hallway, towards room 411-A. He stops at the door and looks down at the keypad to get in. As if someone is watching him via the security camera, the door slides open. Immediately the scent of omega knocks him back a step. She’s intoxicating, but there’s an undercurrent of sour smelling fear and pain. The logical part of him knows she’s likely been tortured, probably doesn’t want him barging in and bonding her. But nevertheless, he steps in and the door slides shut quietly behind him.

She’s perfect. For whatever reason, she’s laying on the ground by the bed in the center of the room. Wearing nothing but a flimsy white robe, he can see the swell of one of her breasts from across the room. Her curls lay across her back, dark and lovely. Her eyes are wide with fear, and her pupils are blown wide. His eyes are drawn to her lips, full, and luscious, as she bites down on her lower lip.

He takes another step closer to her, and inhales, preparing to greet her. And the smell of her is more than overwhelming at this distance. His primal mind completely takes over, and he feels conscious thought and free will are out the window. Driven solely by instinct and rut, he finds himself stalking towards her. He reaches out to grab her leg, and as soon as he makes physical contact, he feels the full strength of his rut overtake him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	11. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fic finally really earns its rating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, so this is my first real attempt at writing smut. It's also way more noncon than I originally intended (will update tags to reflect this). In my interpretation of ABO, no one can truly consent in the moment of heat/rut because all conscious thought is gone (like the lights are on, but no one's home so to speak; so nothing that happens in this chapter is a free choice made by either person), so it's dubcon at a minimum for both parties involved. Because this is from Darcy's perspective, this chapter will not explore Rumlow's inability to provide conscious, continuous consent (it will be discussed, just not in this chapter), so in Darcy's mind, Rumlow is a lot more lucid than he really is. All that being said, if that's not your cup of tea or you think it may be triggering for you, please skip this chapter.

Darcy feels the alpha’s fingers crush around her leg, feels him pull her to him. His smell is intoxicating, like every good thing she’s ever smelled, but better. Her brain is screaming at her, to get closer, to touch him back, to give herself to him. And suddenly he’s on top of her, one hand in her hair, just rough enough, the other hand tracing along her neck. She lets out a small sound, a mewl of sorts. The alpha’s lips crash down on hers, swallowing her cries. His hand trails lower, between her legs, and Darcy is suddenly acutely aware of how wet she is. Slick is practically dripping out of her, and her thighs are already sticky with it. His fingers stroke slowly through her folds, and he nuzzles her neck, ostensibly drinking in her scent.

Abruptly, Darcy feels his arms under hers, lifting her up. She finds herself face down on the bed, and a part of her just wants to lay still on the soft mattress, but her limbs move, seemingly without her conscious input. Her chest is low, ass up, legs slightly spread, presenting for him, the thin robe riding up, barely covering her. She feels his fingers gently stroking her back, along her spine, before he pulls the robe off her unceremoniously.

Darcy’s eyes are squeezed shut, but there are tears slowly seeping out. Every second that he isn’t touching her, isn’t inside of her, is physically painful. He rests one hand on the swell of her ass, squeezing gently, and for a moment, it’s enough. The painful heat in the pit of her stomach eases for a moment, as if having physical contact with the alpha is sufficient to briefly trick her mind.

The heat builds back up quickly, and soon Darcy is moaning in pain. The alpha rumbles behind her, saying something she can’t quite catch, and his other hand is on her, stroking her clit lightly. Her moans of pain quickly transform into moans of pleasure. He presses one finger into her, and Darcy pushes back onto it, needing more. But his other hand tightens around her hip, holding her in place. She lets out a high, frustrated cry. But he slowly, teasingly begins to pump his fingers into her, and Darcy’s frustration abates. She can feel herself building gradually to release, tension increasing in the pit of her stomach, replacing the pain of her heat, slowly but surely.

But before she can climax, he removes his hands, wiping his slick fingers off on her thigh. Behind her, Darcy can vaguely hear movement, the rustling of clothing, but everything is still hazy. All senses deadened, save for the throbbing need between her legs. His hand is back on her hip, tighter this time. Darcy’s instinct is to go limp under the pressure of his grip, but the desire to present takes precedence, and she arches her back even more, desperate for him.

She feels the head of his cock press gently against her warmth, and a shudder passes through her. She aches to press back onto it, but his grip keeps her completely immobile and at his mercy. He stays there for a moment, unmoving.

“Please,” Darcy utters, voice breathy. The alpha murmurs something unintelligible before pressing slowly into her. Darcy’s eyes flutter shut, and she groans; half in pain from the intrusion, and half in pleasure and relief. He presses in up to the hilt, and pauses for a moment, running one hand slowly down Darcy’s side. She’s trembling with need, her whole body feels like a coiled spring, like a rubber band pulled tight, about to snap.

He pumps in and out of her, slowly at first, but gaining in speed. With each thrust, small sounds escape Darcy, little breathy moans and whimpers slip past her lips. One of his hands grips her hip, fingers sure to leave bruises, the other snakes between her legs to stroke her clit. Her moans become more and more desperate as she inches closer and closer to climax.

His thrusts become increasingly erratic, and Darcy’s legs feel as though they can’t support her weight much longer. She can feel the slight swell of the alpha’s knot beginning, and his fingers press against her more urgently. He leans down to nuzzle at her neck, and Darcy unconsciously turns her neck to expose her pulse point to him. His teeth graze her neck, and Darcy lets out a gasp. As the alpha’s knot inflates even more, she cries out in pain, and in response, he bites down, hard, on her neck. She comes undone on his cock, vision blurring, cunt tightening around him. She feels the bond slide into place, becomes more acutely aware of him, but her vision is dotted with white spots. Her legs collapse under her, and she feels him above her, still connected by his knot. He licks the bite gently, and pulls her onto her side, nestled against him.

It feels like only a minute has passed before he slides out, his release slowly slipping out of her. Darcy feels the pain of her heat has abated somewhat but is still present. The desperation is gone, but the desire to have him inside her again is still at a fever pitch. She moans breathily and pushes her hips back against him without thinking. He groans behind her, and she feels the somehow already hard again head of his cock pressing insistently at her opening. He lifts one of her legs to give himself easier access and slides back into her.

Sometime later, Darcy finds herself on top of the alpha, riding him. Too exhausted and too hazy to function, the only thing keeping her upright is the alpha’s hands on her, steadying her and rocking her back and forth on his cock. Everything is foggy and nothing makes sense. Darcy can’t seem to hear anything, and can barely see through the haze. She can’t feel the sheets underneath her or her own hair brushing against her shoulders and back. All she can feel is her alpha.

It's impossible to tell how much time passes. The alpha takes Darcy over and over again, seemingly without stopping. Darcy is certain she passes out from exhaustion more than once, and after being out for an undetermined length of time, awakens to the alpha plunging into her roughly. After the first few rounds, Darcy finds herself too exhausted to move or form coherent words. The alpha is unbothered and simply arranges her body into a pleasing position for himself before fucking her each time.

Every bit of the pain from her heat has been replaced by pleasure, and Darcy isn’t sure if that’s how heats work, or if her alpha just hasn’t stopped fucking her. She feels adrift in the sensation, unable to reason or comprehend, unable to feel anything but bliss. She feels as though she could live like this forever, feeling nothing but him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly harder to write than I thought. Let me know what you think!


	12. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's back in her right mind, and she's not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's about to get really angsty for a while. Darcy and Brock have some difficult conversations ahead of them.

Everything hurts. Darcy squeezes her legs shut and tries to shift her legs, testing them out, but the pain causes her to let out a whimper. There’s a rumble behind her, and the arm around her waist tightens. Darcy’s eyes fly open and she tries to jerk forward, out of the grip of whoever has her, but she’s pulled back against the body behind her.

“Don’t,” a raspy voice growls into her ear. Darcy looks down at the well-muscled arm holding her and tries to wriggle free again, more desperately this time. “Omega…” the voice warns.

“Let. Me. Go.” Darcy growls, each word punctuated by a thrash of an arm or a leg. The alpha flips her onto her back, pinning her arms to the bed, and straddling her.

“Stop,” he commands, in his Alpha Voice. Darcy goes slack in his grip, compelled to comply. She looks up at him, as if seeing him for the first time. Light brown eyes, tanned skin, strong jawline. He appears to have gone several days without a shave, and his dark hair looks distinctly rumpled and slept on. Darcy’s body may not be able to defy his command, but her mouth certainly can.

“How fucking dare you use that voice on me,” she snarls up at him.

“Come on sweetheart, what was I supposed to do?” She glares at him, feeling rage bubbling up inside her.

“Oh, I don’t know, let me go?!? And you don’t get to call me that. You will call me by my name, you piece of shit Nazi son of a bitch.” He has the decency to look embarrassed.

“You know I can’t let you go. Especially not now,” he says softly, nodding at her neck. Darcy furrows her brow.

“You-you didn’t…” she trails off softly. He looks down at her, sadness in his eyes, and it’s as if the floodgates have opened. He opens the connection and she can feel the bond. She feels the anguish and regret he feels, the apology he can’t quite word. And it’s too much.

“Oh god. Oh god, I’m gonna be sick,” she moans. Before she can even think to move, her alpha picks her up bridal style and rushes her to the bathroom. One hand holds her hair away from her face, and the other strokes up and down her back as she heaves over the toilet.

“Shhh, baby, shhh,” he murmurs to her.

“Don’t…call me…that,” Darcy gasps out between dry heaves. There’s nothing in her stomach, and she can’t remember the last time she ate. He stops talking then, but she can feel the soothing and calming emotions he sends through the bond. She’ll never admit it aloud, but it’s nice. Comforting. He sits with her until she stops heaving.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says cautiously. Darcy nods shakily, and her alpha sets about drawing the water for a bath and retrieving soaps from the cabinet. She pulls herself up, legs unsteady, to examine herself in the mirror. Bruises litter her body, ones in the shape of handprints frame her hips, and it’s faint, but she’s fairly certain that there are finger-shaped bruises curling around her neck too. Her chest and neck are covered in dark purple hickeys, and upon closer inspection, she can see the smeared blood on one side of her neck. She touches it gently, feeling the outline of the still healing bonding bite.

She looks into her own eyes in the mirror and doesn’t recognize herself. She’s…disgusted with her reflection. Disgusted with herself. The feelings of shame and revulsion begin to grow in her chest, and she projects them across the bond without thinking. She hears the clatter of her alpha dropping a shampoo bottle, and suddenly he’s right behind her, purring in an attempt to calm her.

“Get out,” she gasps.

“Are you s- “

“Get out,” she repeats, more firmly this time.

“Okay,” her alpha whispers. He backs away slowly and closes the door behind him. She can sense him on the other side of the door, senses that he’s keeping watch almost. With the door between them, Darcy feels her composure slipping. Tears begin to slide down her cheeks and looking down at her own body makes her want to scream. The bruises, the hickeys, the stickiness between her legs, they make Darcy feel dirty, broken, used.

She stumbles to the tub and eases herself into the warm water. It’s the perfect temperature. She lets out a shaky breath and leans back in the water. She needs a plan. _Okay, bonded. To an alpha. A HYDRA alpha. With no way out. No way out. No way out._  She feels the panic rising and braces herself against the sides of the tub. _One thing at a time. Get clean first. Then plan._ She exhales slowly and sets about scrubbing herself clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	13. A Small Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small chapter featuring some Brock angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kinda short, so I'm hoping to have a second one up tonight.

Brock leans against the bathroom door. He can sense his omega – _Darcy_ , he reminds himself – in the tub. Her distress is palpable, and it has him on edge. It takes every ounce of restraint to stop himself from breaking down the door and scooping her up, nuzzling against her, comforting her.

_You fucked up. She hates you. She wants nothing to do with you_ , he thinks to himself, miserably. _Pull it together, Rumlow. You’re getting soft. One little romp with the omega and you lose your shit. Pathetic._ He frowns. _It wasn’t just a little romp. You bonded her. Once the bonds settles, you’ll be back to normal._

The cacophony of negative emotions coming through the bathroom door is making him physically ill. She’s clearly disgusted with herself, full of shame about what happened during her heat. Despite the bond, he can sense that she doesn’t trust him, and for good reason. _But if you’re gonna be her handler you’ve gotta earn her trust._ He scans the room, eyes landing on the robe she was wearing when she came in. It smells like horror and despair, and he can smell it from across the room. _That won’t do._ He leaves his post by the bathroom door and strides over to the wall by the exit. He presses his hand flat against a barely visible panel. The doors don’t open, but a smaller panel next to his hand slides up, revealing a tiny speaker and button. He presses the button and clears his throat.

“Rumlow reporting in,” he calls into the speaker. It crackles for a moment, and a crisp voice replies.

“It has been six days since your last check-in Commander Rumlow. Do you require anything to be sent in to you?” _Fuck. Six days. Never had a rut last that long._

“Yes. Clothing for myself and the omega. PT uniform for myself, and something…soft for the omega. And food. No MREs,” he barks. Satisfied, he takes his hand off the wall, and the panel slides back up, concealing the speaker. He walks back to the bathroom door and resumes his position guarding his omega. _Darcy_ , he reminds himself for the umpteenth time. _You gotta use her name, or she’s never gonna trust you._ He can hear her crying softly through the door but doesn’t move, save for the subtle, agitated twitch of his muscles.

There’s a sound outside, and the doors slide open. A low-level HYDRA worker walks in, eyes cast downwards. He places several packages and a tray on the ground, and scurries out, careful not to look at Rumlow. Brock smiles. He does love how intimidated the agents below him are. He rifles through one of the boxes, grabbing clothes for himself. He pulls on freshly laundered sweatpants and a comfy t-shirt.

He opens the box of clothing for Darcy. There’s a variety of things picked for her. Enough for several days. He furrows his brow. There was only one set of clothes for him. _She might be in this room for a few days without me._ The thought turns his stomach. He shakes the feeling and examines the clothes more closely. Leggings, sweatpants, long-sleeved tees, even a sweater, and at the bottom of the box, several pairs of plain cotton panties and sports bras.  He grabs a pair of panties, the softest looking sweatpants, a sports bra, and a navy long sleeved tee. _Maximum coverage. She probably doesn’t want me looking at her._ He pads softly over to the bathroom. He can tell she’s stopped crying and can hear the water in the tub draining. _Perfect timing._ He knocks softly on the door to no response. He knocks again.

“Hello?” He pauses. “I’ve got fresh clothes for you.” The door opens a crack. Her scent overwhelms him, even now that he’s in his right mind. She’s perfection. Mixed in with her natural scent is the smell of lavender shampoo, his favorite. He holds the clothes out to her, and a small pale hand shoots out and grabs them. In a flash, she’s pulled them into her and shut the door sharply. She says nothing, but Brock can feel the gratitude she pushes through the bond. He grins. _Finally did something right._ He scans the room, noting the rumpled bed. He cringes. _She doesn’t wanna see that. Doesn’t wanna be reminded._ He straightens up the bed and sets the tray of food the other agent brought in on the edge of the made bed.

_What, you trying to impress her or something?_

_No. Just… want her to be comfortable. Can’t have a successful mission if the asset doesn’t trust their handler._ The bond has been in place for days now, and he still doesn’t feel back to normal. It’s unsettling. The urge to protect her is fine, it’ll serve him well on their mission. But he feels strangely driven to keep her happy, which, knowing where her loyalties lie, could be an issue. He growls thinking about it. If she can’t prove her loyalty to HYDRA, he won’t be able to protect her. The thought makes him unexpectedly angry. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, calming himself. The woman in the bathroom seems to be taking precedence over everything else in his mind. He can deny it, but deep down, at this moment in time, if he had to choose between the mission and the omega, the omega would win. It’s a troubling idea. The door to the bathroom creaks and Brock’s eyes fly open, he whips his head around to see Darcy, entirely too eager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	14. The Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy asks a very important question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is killing me. It has to happen though.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Darcy snaps at the alpha.

“Like what?”

“Like…I dunno…” she trails off. Darcy turns back to the bathroom, not wanting to even be in the same room as him.

“Wait! Darcy!” She stops.

“You know my name,” she says over her shoulder. She turns to face him. “How do you know my name?”

“They told me. Before.” Darcy’s eyes flash with anger, and she stomps across the room to him.

“And exactly how much do you know about me, _Alpha_?” She addresses him with a mocking tone. He flinches at the acidity in her voice, but a small part of him likes her calling him that.

“Does it matter?” He casts his gaze downwards, eyeing the tray of food. Darcy lets out a harsh laugh.

“Does it matter? Does it matter?!? Are you fucking serious?!?” Her breathing is coming out faster, harsher than before. “Of course it matters! You come in here, knowing everything about me, and I know nothing about you. You’re a stranger to me. You’re a stranger and you ra—you raped me,” she hisses. She looks as though she wants to say more, her mouth keeps opening but nothing comes out. She’s hyperventilating, even starting to shake. Before Rumlow can stop himself he’s off the bed and next to her.

He wraps his arms around her, lifting her up and close to him. He purrs, rumbling deep in his chest, and tries to calm her through the bond. She curls into him without thinking and nestles her face into his neck. She inhales deeply, gulping in his scent. It soothes her, and she starts to stop shaking. Rumlow sits down on the bed, Darcy still curled up in his arms.

“I hate that you can do that,” she mumbles into his chest. He looks down at her, smelling her hair subtly.

“I know,” he murmurs. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” He sets her gently by the tray of food and takes the cover off of it. Darcy starts to pick at it half-heartedly. Rumlow sighs. “What do you wanna know?” Darcy looks up at him, surprised.

“I dunno, just, tell me about yourself I guess. Since you’re my…since we’re stuck together I might as well know…yeah,” she says, absentmindedly popping a grape into her mouth. Rumlow gives her a pitying look.

“Sure. I’m Rumlow. Brock.” Darcy snickers softly. “What?”

“Brock? That’s your name? Your real name?”

“What’s wrong with my name?”

“Nothing, it’s just… your parents might as well have named you Manly McChestHair. That’s all I’m saying.” Brock sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Anyways. I’ve got like a decade on you age-wise, so, sorry if that’s weird. I’m SHIELD. And HYDRA, obviously.” She glares at him at that. “I’m also supposed to be your handler, you know, for this mission.”

“Great. Nazi-rapist-handler-bondmate. How did I get so lucky?” She mutters to herself. Hatred and disgust flow through the bond and the intensity of it makes Brock recoil.

“Oh. Uh, there’s one other thing.” Darcy narrows her eyes at him. “You know Captain America, right? How he’s…enhanced?”

“Yes…” Darcy growls at him.

“So most of us on the STRIKE team are-“

“Super soldiers?”

“Yeah. Not like Captain America, not exactly, but yeah. Heightened instincts and strength, accelerated healing, and so far, it doesn’t look like we’re aging. And since we bonded, you’re…well, you’ve got that too. You know, from the bite.”

“Brilliant,” Darcy snarls.

“So, about this mission…” Brock looks at her expectantly.

“I’m still not gonna cooperate, you know that, right?” Brock looks at her, incredulous. “You honestly thought just because you chomped on my neck I’d roll over and obey you? What is this, some kind of 50s soap opera?”

“Wait, so you don’t feel any… different?” Rumlow’s heart sinks. _She’s not gonna cooperate. This makes everything so much harder._

“Of course I feel different. Every time I feel panicked or scared I wanna crawl over to you and be held. It’s disgusting. Beyond fucked up. Like some kind of Stockholm Syndrome. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna change my loyalty. I’m not some weak minded idiot.” She looks at Rumlow. “Oh my god. You all think I’m some weak little omega you can bend to your will. Jesus Christ.” She flops face down on the bed.

“Sorry?” Brock isn’t sure if he should comfort her, or leave her be.

“I don’t wanna hear it, McChestHair,” she says, voice muffled by the blankets. She lays there for a long while, and Brock says nothing. Eventually, sighing, she rolls over, staring at the ceiling blankly. “So what’s the plan, Manly?” Brock smiles but is careful not to let Darcy see. Even though it’s meant to mock, the nickname makes him feel strangely warm in the pit of his stomach.

“Could you pretend to be loyal to HYDRA?” Darcy looks at him, confused. Brock can feel the hopefulness emanating through the bond. It makes his chest feel tight, but in a good way.

“Probably. I mean – I think I could. Yeah. For how long?” She looks him in the eyes, and she feels something in her chest for the first time. She feels safe.

“I- I don’t know.” He feels the flood of disappointment from her, it’s painful. “But if you won’t go along with the mission-“

“I’d rather die.” Rumlow’s heart clenches painfully at that, but he presses on.

“If you won’t go along with it I don’t know what to do. I’m not going to hurt you to make you do it.”

“Really?” She seems surprised, and he’s gutted that she would think he would hurt her or force her. _But you should be forcing her. The mission requires her. Shit, you really are going soft. Get it together Rumlow._ She hums softly to herself, deep in thought. She eyes him appraisingly.

“Would you change sides for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry - next chapter will be up tomorrow! Let me know what you think!


	15. The Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (and the next chapter) are like the angstiest things I have ever written.

Rumlow gapes at her, mouth open, unable to speak for several long moments. He can feel her swirl of emotions, the hopefulness, the apprehension, the fear. And there’s so much he wants to ask. _Why would you ask me to do that? Why won’t you just go along? Are you crazy?_ And most tellingly, _would it make you happy if I did?_ Instead, he settles on something far less eloquent.

“What?” He asks dumbly, and the pang of disappointment from her could probably be felt even without a bond. She sighs.

“I mean, would you be, like, a mole or something?”

“I’m already a mole of sorts. A triple agent?”

“Yeah, that,” Darcy smiles at him.

“And why would I do that?” Darcy cocks her head and looks at him expectantly. “Because of you?” He chuckles. “I’d be giving up everything. And there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t kill me. You could be killed.” The thought of her dead, buried in a shallow, unmarked grave at the hands of HYDRA makes him nauseous.

“Again, I’d rather die than be HYDRA, so, either way, my life is kind of on the line. Besides, you wouldn’t be giving up everything…” Darcy has a plan. Not a perfectly well-formed one, but a plan nevertheless. As captivated and drawn to Brock as she is, she knows the alpha drive to protect their omega is oftentimes much stronger, overriding logic, or, in this case, over a decade of brainwashing and devotion to an evil organization. She’s been too frightened and sick to think about any semblance of a future with him, but she can tell by the way he flinches when she talks about dying, that he wants to keep her. _You can use this to your advantage, you just gotta focus._ “If it were up to you, ideally, how would this play out?” Brock is quiet for a moment, pensive.

“You’d go along with the mission, and at least pretend to be loyal to HYDRA. When the mission finished or at least reached a stable point, we could get more serious… I mean – if you – if you wanted to do that.” Darcy’s eyebrows shoot up, but deep down she knows this isn’t unexpected. He’s a newly bonded alpha for one, and the rose-colored glasses are certainly on for him, and he definitely doesn’t view their bonding the same way she does. He’s HYDRA, used to their brutality and methods. She’s certain that he can imagine a future where she happily bears his children and he continues HYDRA-ing. He’s not distressed by their circumstances, and if she’s honest, she doesn’t think he realizes that she’s traumatized by their bonding. She clears her throat nervously.

“More serious?” She nibbles her lip in apprehension. Brock sighs, looks embarrassed, but he presses on.

“Like moving in together, babies, whatever, you know?” Darcy can’t stop the flash of anger that wells up inside her and across the bond. Brock jumps back as if burned. “Unless you don’t wanna do that?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” The hurt is radiating off Darcy. Brock reaches for her and she jerks away, out of his reach, and the hurt radiates back through the bond from his end. “You don’t understand,” she cries. Unable to soothe his omega, Brock is starting to look agitated, pale, stressed. He’s desperate to reach out to her, pull her into his chest, and stop her hurt.

“Tell me,” he rasps. For a moment, Darcy is at a loss, not knowing what to do. Then something comes to her. Something her bonded parents were able to do.

“Come here, I wanna try something,” she says, barely above a whisper. He’s practically on top of her in a split second, overeager. She reaches out, placing her hands on either side of his face, and he melts into her touch. “We’ll start with something happy. Tell me if you can see anything.” She closes her eyes and concentrates hard. She pushes a memory through the bond, focusing intently on every aspect of it.

“I see…something,” he says, slightly shocked. “It’s… a dining room. There’s an old woman there, she’s smiling.”

“My Oma,” Darcy whispers.

“There’s candles…a menorah, I think? It smells like fried potatoes.”

“Latkes,” Darcy murmurs.

“It’s warm, and your sweater is kind of itchy. And you feel… really happy. And… safe,” he says. Brock opens his eyes, looking deeply into hers. “How did you do that?” Darcy shrugs.

“I don’t know if it’s a bondmates thing or a genetic thing, because my mom and dad could do it. But I wanna show you…” Darcy pauses, biting her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “I just wanna show you some other things.” Brock nods at her, and Darcy closes her eyes.

She focuses on all the memories of her time since boarding the plane, one at a time. She pulls up all the sensations and emotions she experienced. The horror, pain, and terror pulse through the bond. Tears stream down Darcy’s cheeks, unbeknownst to her. She walks Brock through each and every memory, and the tension in his body builds bit by bit. The crackle of the stun baton, the feelings of shame and self-loathing when she saw herself in the mirror, and the intense grief at the loss of a future she had imagined for herself, all flow freely across the bond and into Brock’s mind. When she’s finished showing him the memories, Darcy drops her hands from his face, her entire body slack. Brock opens his eyes and looks at her. Her bright blue eyes are glassy and unseeing, her body trembling. He’s not sure if it’s the right thing to do, but he grabs her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into her hair. He’s shaking, sickened at the memories he’s seen. It’s one thing for him to be hurt and tortured, but not her. He rocks her back and forth slowly until she calms down. She looks up at him, eyes red, cheeks blotchy and pink, and hair rumpled. His heart clenches painfully at the sight. He exhales long and slow, the decision made.

“What do you need me to do Darcy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	16. A Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Brock finally have *that* conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a shitty day, but I hope to have another chapter up tomorrow. Fingers crossed!

“Help me,” Darcy mumbles.

“How?” Brock looks down at her, and Darcy swears his eyes are shiny with unshed tears.

“I wanna go home.” And there’s a large part of him that wants nothing more than to pick her up, break down the doors, and whisk her back to wherever she would feel safe if it would make her less angry at him.

“You know I can’t do that,” he sighs, “not yet at least.” Darcy perks up, eyes brightening.

“Yet?”

“Well yeah, once we’re briefed on the mission, they’ll send you back. Find some excuse to station me near you, and then they’d expect us to start…you know.”

“But we’re not gonna, right? You’re gonna snitch to the Avengers?” Brock sighs.

“Sure. If it’ll make you happy. And less mad at me.” Darcy squints at him, irritably.

“I’m sorry, do you not understand why I’m mad at you? Why do you think I’m angry at you and don’t trust you?”

“Because you didn’t want me to bond you? I’m not entirely sure.” Darcy is floored.

“Wow, okay. I’ll spell it out for you. One: you work for a neo-Nazi organization. Jewish,” she points at herself, “and also a decent human being, so super not okay with that. Two: you’re a rapist. Need I say more?” Brock sputters and narrows his eyes at her.

“Well, I’m definitely not a ra-“

“A rapist?” Darcy cuts him off. “You came into this room and had sex with me. When I didn’t want you to. Pretty fucking textbook dude.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so worked up about it. It’s not a big d-“

“Not a big deal?” Darcy snarls. “What, have you done that before you psycho?” She’s yelling now, more rage than she’s ever felt pulsing through her. Any benefit of the doubt she was willing to extend him is out the window.

“It’s not a big deal because it happens to fucking everyone!” he bellows. It’s the first time she’s ever heard him raise his voice, and she’s stunned.

“What?! Are you saying you’ve been in my position before?” He looks at her like she’s an idiot.

“Of course I have! Who hasn’t?! And you get your shit together and move on. It’s not a big deal, damn.” Darcy gapes at him, still furious, but she feels a glimmer of pity.

“Jesus holy fuck, you need, like, so much therapy. You’re telling me when it happened to you, you didn’t feel angry and upset, especially at the person who did it?”

“He did it for a reason, he had to,” the response comes out too quickly, like he’s internalized the ‘right’ thing to say, and Darcy’s stomach curls in disgust. “He was my handler. Happens to everyone,” the anger in his voice is gone, and his tone is uncomfortably emotionless.

“I’m no therapist, but here goes,” Darcy rubs her eyes, still in shock. “Do you like your handler? Would you go play house with him and be in a relationship with him?” Brock’s lip curls in disgust.

“God no.” Darcy looks at him pointedly. “Oh,” he furrows his brow. “But I can’t take it back, and you’re stuck with me forever, so what can I do, really?” She shouldn’t, but Darcy feels bad for him. Just a little bit.

“Well, I’m gonna need therapy. You definitely need therapy. And bonds are forever, so if there’s anything salvageable from our dumpster fire of a ‘relationship’, we’ll need bondmate therapy. A lot of it. And maybe someday we could be friends.”

“Maybe more?” He’s far too hopeful.

“Don’t push it,” Darcy sighs. “You’d have to really change. Like, a lot.” He looks thoughtful at that, staring down at his hands.

“What can I do now?” He stares at her expectantly.

“What?”

“I mean, what can I do now to make it better?”

“Huh. Ummm, well that thing where you grab me and comfort me?” He nods. “It’s super great and really helpful. But if you could ask before you grab me, or wait until I reach out for you, that would be better.” She looks at him, hesitant, expecting him to be put out. But he just nods.

“I guess I can do that. And if there’s other stuff, I’ll do it.”

“Great,” Darcy smiles halfheartedly, heart clenching painfully. It’s almost worse like this. If he were unapologetic, cruel, and inconsiderate, it would be easier. But he’s so eager, so attached to her already, so willing to help her. There’s a teeny tiny part of her that’s hopeful that he can change. Change enough to where they could have some semblance of a normal future together, no matter how slim the chances are.

Darcy knows the facts. There’s no way anyone would want to be with her now. And her chances of having children with anyone other than her alpha are essentially zero. And no adoption agency would ever adopt to a single, bonded omega. It’s not as though Darcy was one of those girls who wanted nothing more than a husband and kids. Hell, she still isn’t sure that she ever wants to be a mom. But having the option taken away entirely still hurts more than she thought it would. Besides, apart from the small circle of friends in the tower, no one will want to be her friend now. She’ll be a pariah. Bonded omegas not in relationships with their alphas are still considered “fallen women”. Only the most liberal of her college friends will still hang out with her now if Brock isn’t in the picture. It’s crushing. She shakes herself a bit, refocuses.

“So…the plan?” She tries to smile, but can’t quite manage.

“I’ll tell them we’re ready to be briefed on the mission. They’ll get us both to the tower. You tell me who I need to talk to, I do it. We wait for the fallout from my command here. I deal with it. You stay safe. We do therapy. Is that good?” She nods. “Alright let’s do this then.” He stands up, and strides to the wall, exposing the button and speaker again.

“Commander Rumlow reporting in. Ready for mission briefing.” His voice is more forceful, commanding than Darcy has heard from him, and it’s off-putting. The speaker crackles and the crisp voice from the other side returns.

“The time is now 2100 hours. A briefing has been scheduled for tomorrow at 0800 hours.” The speaker crackles with static again, and Brock closes the panel.

“Tomorrow?” Darcy asks, voice small. Rumlow shrugs. Darcy looks from Brock to the only bed in the room, and back. Rumlow catches on and pulls a face. _Fuck. One more thing for you to upset her over. Great._

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Brock blurts out at the same time Darcy does. _Oh boy, even better._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, bit of a major revelation about Rumlow there. Idk I just feel like HYDRA definitely uses torture and sexual abuse to break and maintain control over a lot of their agents. Let me know what you think!


	17. A Long Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while. Updates may be a little less frequent, as I'm back at grad school. (On the struggle bus rn.)

“Absolutely not,” Brock exclaims. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Darcy snarks. “Plus, I don’t wanna sleep on that bed.” Brock sighs.

“Have you slept on the floor before?”

“Not intentionally,” Darcy rolls her eyes.

“Have you ever gone camping?”

“Noooo.”

“Just…just sleep on the bed. Tomorrow is gonna be hard enough, you don’t need to add a bad night’s sleep and a crick in the neck on top of it.”

“I’m gonna have a bad night’s sleep anyways,” Darcy grumbles.

“Please,” Brock pleads. Darcy feels his desperation, his guilt, pouring out through the bond, “please, just for one night.”

“Fine,” Darcy grouses, curling up on the bed. Brock grabs a pillow and flicks the lights out. He lays on the cool ground, staring up at the ceiling. _This is such a clusterfuck. You’re such a fuckup. Can’t even get a simple mission right._ His thoughts won’t stop spiraling, emotions getting the best of him. “Cut it out,” Darcy groans from across the room.

“What?”

“I can feel your whole self-hatred pity party. Cut it out. It doesn’t help anything. The only thing that’ll help is if you do better, fix your shit.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“You should be,” Darcy says quietly to herself. Brock wills himself to sleep. He knows what’s coming tomorrow will be unpleasant for both of them, and he needs to be at the top of his game. He can’t be out for more than a few hours before distress coming through the bond jolts him awake. He’s across the room at to Darcy in a heartbeat, but he stops himself before he touches her. She writhing around, clearly in the throes of a nightmare, whimpering softly.

_You gotta be careful here, don’t wanna freak her out or hurt her again._ He reaches out slowly and shakes her shoulder softly. “Darcy?” She doesn’t respond. “Darcy you gotta wake up you’re having a nightmare,” he says, shaking her a bit harder. She opens her eyes blearily, but she doesn’t stop whimpering. Brock takes his hand off her shoulder and holds his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. He tries to gently push calming and happy thoughts through the bond. “You okay?”

“No,” Darcy mumbles. She reaches out for him and grabs his hand tightly. Brock edges closer, sitting down and leaning his head on the mattress. He starts to purr, rumbling deep in his chest. Darcy lets out a sigh, and her eyes flutter shut. Brock watches as she drifts back to sleep, watches her face relax as her breathing evens out. His gaze shifts to their intertwined hands, and he smiles. It’s a small gesture, but he’s happy that she still wants him to soothe her, even if it’s when she’s half asleep. Even though the position is much less comfortable, he finds it easier to sleep like this, holding her hand, awkwardly sitting next to the bed.

Darcy wakes up feeling a strange mixture of hopeful and cripplingly nervous. She looks down at Rumlow, still asleep, and their loosely clasped hands. It’s a nice thought, that he didn’t get into bed with her, but soothed her like this instead. The small hope that he can be redeemed grows by an inch. Darcy watches him intently, fascinated and drawn to him, but repulsed all at once.

“Are you gonna stare at me all day?” Darcy squeaks in surprise and jumps backward.

“God damn it don’t scare me like that!” Brock chuckles.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it. Come on, they’ll be sending in uniforms for us, so if you want to shower, you gotta do it now.” Darcy shrugs her shoulders noncommittally. “Suit yourself. I’m gonna.” He meanders to the bathroom, and Darcy can’t help but watch him out of the corner of her eye. She huffs and rolls over, trying to get a little bit more sleep. It’s a testament to how exhausted she is that in mere moments, she’s out again.

“You’d be a terrible field agent,” Brock laughs. Darcy grumbles and opens her eyes. He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist.

“Huh?”

“They dropped off food and more clothes and you didn’t even wake up. Amazing.” Brock walks over to the boxes, and pulls out some clothes, tossing some at Darcy. “Put those on. Then we can eat and go over the plan.” The bathroom door clicks shut behind him, and Darcy examines the clothes in front of her. They’re all black, clearly a uniform, and the socks look scratchy. She sighs and changes quickly. She’s right, the socks are awful. She grabs the tray of food and sets it on the bed. It’s a typical breakfast, like something Thor would make on a Sunday morning for everyone in the tower. She picks at the food unenthusiastically.

“You really need to eat,” Brock says casually, sitting on the bed next to her. Darcy jolts in surprise.

“Has anyone ever told you that you should wear a bell? Because you should.” Brock laughs, and Darcy glances at him. Seeing him in the uniform is more jarring than she thought it would be. It’s more real. He looks much more HYDRA than he did when he was in sweatpants. She doesn’t like it.

“So we gotta go over some things before we go to this briefing,” Brock remarks seriously.

“Mmmhmm,” Darcy mumbles, shoving a piece of bacon in her mouth.

“Okay, you gotta walk like two or three steps behind me.”

“Patriarchal garbage,” Darcy hisses, grabbing a piece of toast and buttering it furiously.

“And anything I order you to do, you gotta do, without question. They’re gonna want me to prove that I’ve got you under my control.”

“But you don’t. Not now or ever,” Darcy says, pointing the butter knife at him menacingly, toast still only half-buttered.

“Yes, you’ve made that very clear. I’m gonna try to protect you, but just so you know, this is probably going to be really unpleasant,” Brock shoots her a pitying look.

“How much worse could it get?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	18. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Brock go to the mission debriefing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I'm back! Grad school this week kicked my butt, and I barely had time to do anything :(  
> This chapter is...creepy. Pierce is the worst and HYDRA is super gross about Omegas.

The door slides open, and Darcy’s fear spikes. Brock turns back to her.

“Deep breaths. If we do well, we can get you on a plane home really soon,” he says. Darcy nods shakily. “Remember: two to three steps behind me, and don’t say anything unless asked.”

He sets off out the door at a quick clip, and Darcy stumbles after him, trying to maintain the proper distance. The halls fly past, and Darcy has no idea how anyone can navigate the building. Brock stops abruptly in front of a large wooden door. Darcy nearly bumps into him before she can stop herself.

“Whatever happens, I need you to trust me. Can you trust me?” Brock says without turning around.

“I don’t trust you,” Darcy says before she can stop herself.

“Can you trust me for like an hour?”

“Fine.” Brock squares his shoulders and pushes open the door. Darcy follows him closely into the room. There are men and women in uniforms and expensive suits seated around a conference table. An older man in a suit stands and walks around the table, extending his hand to Brock.

“Rumlow, good to have you back,” he says as they shake hands. He regards Darcy coolly, stepping towards her. “I do have to say, she is…exquisite,” he purrs, hand reaching out to cup her chin firmly, turning her head side to side. He eyes the finger-shaped bruises and dark hickeys still visible on her neck. “I see you’ve already started to break her to your hand. I wonder…” He moves to touch her breast with his other hand and Brock lets out a growl, deep in his chest, he can feel the fear flowing from Darcy, and the older man laughs. “Tsk-tsk Commander, mustn’t forget your place,” he grips Rumlow’s shoulder and leans in close. “I’m still your handler, and what’s yours is mine. Never forget that.” Rumlow stiffens and carefully keeps his face neutral. Darcy’s blood runs cold, but she focuses on staying silent and neutral.

“Yes Sir,” Brock intones.

The other man smiles forcefully at them and gestures at an empty chair at the table. “Shall we?”

Brock walks to the chair, Darcy close behind him. He sits down, and Darcy stands awkwardly behind him. The older man smirks at her, eyes glittering. “Commander Rumlow, it appears your omega is unaware of our protocol.” Brock forces a smile that looks more like a grimace, and Darcy can feel the apology through the bond, along with a healthy dose of regret and shame. He turns towards Darcy, and their eyes meet, and she’s frightened by what she sees there. His expression has hardened.

“Omega,” he barks at her. “Kneel,” he commands, using his Alpha voice. Compelled to obey, she drops to her knees next to his chair. The other alphas laugh and jeer, and the malevolent smirk from the man across the table makes Darcy drop her head, face red with embarrassment. Brock’s hand finds its way into her hair, calming her. “Just focus on staying calm, nothing else. You’ll be fine,” he whispers so only she can hear. She nods, shifting her focus to her breathing. She does her yoga breaths, grounding herself, and she examines the gray carpet intently. She hears the buzz of the meeting, but she’s able to tune most of it out, knowing Brock will keep her updated later in the safety of their room. After a while, she watches the feet and legs of those at the table disappear, as they filter out of the room. She feels Brock's firm hands lift her up and plop her on his lap. “Play along,” he mutters into her ear. He wraps an arm around her waist possessively. Darcy unconsciously melts into his grip, leaning against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder.

“…all I’m saying is that I don’t get why you won’t let the team have some fun,” the man next to Brock says.

“Rollins, she’s a reward. Why would I share my reward with you when you lost? Besides, look at her,” Rumlow laughs, running a hand down Darcy’s cheek. “I don’t want your grubby hands all over what’s mine. So you can tell the rest of the team too. If any one of you lays even a finger on her, at any time, anywhere, I will do the same to you as I did to Davis, but this time, I’ll finish the job. I’d love a ‘total decapitation’ note in my personnel file.” Rollins rolls his eyes.

“You’re no fun,” Rollins grouses.

“No, I just don’t like to share, especially not with people who’re beneath me. So if you’ll excuse me,” he says, lifting Darcy up as he stands, “I’d like to enjoy my reward some more.” She wraps her arms around his neck for stability, liking the feeling. He stalks out of the room, still carrying her. In fact, he carries her all the way back to their room, not stopping for anything. When the doors hiss shut behind them, he deposits her gently on the bed. He then turns and sits on the floor, leaning his back against the bed. He’s too quiet.

“Brock?” Darcy waits for a response, but none comes. “Brock?” She says his name louder this time, but still, he says nothing. She slides off the bed and walks cautiously around to face him. He doesn’t look up at her, his head resting in his hands. Darcy leans closer and sees his shoulders trembling. She reaches through the bond, but it’s as if he’s blocked her from communicating with him that way. Confused, and slightly hurt, she sits down next to him. “Can you hear me?” He grunts in response. “Do you wanna talk?” she asks, hesitant.

“No,” he mutters.

“Oo-kay. I guess I’ll just sit here then…” Darcy reaches out and pats his arm, in what she hopes is interpreted as a soothing gesture. “I’ll be here.” _Because I can’t go anywhere_ , she adds in her head. _I’m stuck here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I'm trying to get a buffer of a few chapters written in case I can't write a ton because my husband is FINALLY coming home from deployment soon!


	19. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahhh it's been too long! My husband came home (2 months late - ugh), grad school kicked my ass this semester, and I finally had my wedding reception. So I've been super busy! The good news is I'm on break now, and hopefully, this next semester will be less stressful and I can update more.

After a long while, Brock lifts his head. His expression is blank, emotionless like he’s completely checked out mentally. He says nothing. Darcy stares at him, uncomfortable, his behavior is rather off-putting. She clears her throat, and he turns to face her, expression unchanged.

“You good?”

“Fine,” he clips out. He stalks to the wall, exposes the speaker, and clears his throat. “We’re ready. Send them in.” He stands motionless and emotionless by the door until they slide open. A quivering agent stands in the doorway, and Rumlow snatches the bag from his hands before he can speak. The doors close softly and Rumlow turns back to Darcy. He drops the bag into her lap.

“There’s clothes in there. Your clothes. Hair supplies and makeup too. Make yourself look like you would on any other day. Cover the bruises. There’s an ankle brace in there too. Wear it. That’s the excuse as to why you’ve come home early. I’ll wait here.” He turns to face the door, back to her. He’s ramrod straight, unmoving.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” he says sharply. Darcy pulls the bag to her chest and stands up. She moves to go to the bathroom, but on an impulse, stops, and reaches for him.

“Let me know if I can help, okay?” She says softly, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. She turns and practically sprints to the bathroom, closing the door behind her firmly. She opens the bag, and her heart is in her throat. They’re her clothes. She inhales deeply. They still smell like the detergent she uses at home. She pulls the articles of clothing out one by one. Her trusty black leggings. Her favorite red sweater. Her cat socks. Her maroon boots. She pulls them on in a hurry. She feels more like herself, more grounded, more human, wearing her own things. At the bottom of the bag is all her makeup stuff, and her favorite beanie. She can’t help but smile. She sets about carefully applying her makeup for what feels like the first time in months. She takes extra care to cover the rapidly fading bruises on her neck, and with a swipe of her red lipstick, she finishes. She looks at herself in the mirror carefully. At first glance, there seems to be nothing different about her, as if nothing had happened. But when she meets her eyes in the mirror, she sees it. There’s something off about them. Sadder, more melancholy and reserved than they were before. She sighs. She shoves all the makeup back into the bag before exiting the bathroom, leaving the black uniform and the scratchy socks on the floor in a heap. Brock’s eyes meet hers, and she can sense he’s back to “normal”. Well, normal for him. He smiles, his eyes sweeping up and down, drinking her in.

“I like you like this,” he says. “And uh, sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to lose my composure.”

“That’s fine. I’m just gonna reiterate that you definitely need therapy. So, what’s the plan?”

“We’re leaving. In about an hour.” Darcy breaks into a grin. “We just need to do one last thing.” Darcy is practically bursting with excitement, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Yeah?” He holds out a small bottle, filled with small blue pills.

“Scent suppressors. We each need to take one a day. So the bond stays under wraps. And uh…after…we can stop taking them. But that’s up to you I guess.” Darcy examines the pills quietly, taking one out and holding it in the palm of her hand. She pops it into her mouth and swallows. “Alright let’s go. Same as before, until we’re off the plane you have to act-“

“Like I’m a braindead omega who follows her alpha blindly? Yeah, I remember,” she gripes, following him back into the hallway, through the maze of corridors. Eventually, she recognizes where they are. It’s the same hangar she was in when she first came in. It makes her sad, thinking about how much has changed since she arrived, but she pushes the thought away. She follows Brock dutifully up the ramp of a Quinjet and sits down next to him. This time, there are no other agents seated with her, but she feels so much more uncomfortable. They sit in silence for the entirety of the ride until the jet settles on the roof of the tower.

“So when we get out there, you can act like you normally would, just don’t…mention me or the bond, or that stuff yet. Not until we talk to the right people. SHIELD within the tower is definitely compromised, so be careful, okay?”

“Gotcha,” Darcy says, sliding off her chair, and walking briskly to the slowly descending ramp. She can see Jane, Thor, Tony, and Bruce all waiting for her on the runway. She practically sprints down the ramp before it’s fully down, and throws herself at Jane, wrapping her in a crushing hug. She knows she can’t tell Jane what’s happened, or how she really feels, but she tries to put all the feeling she can into the embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re back!” Jane squeals, jumping up and down. She looks over Darcy’s shoulder and sneers. Darcy follows her gaze and sees Brock making his way down the ramp, carrying her bags. “Ugh, I suppose that’s the temporary security for the lab then. Sucks you hurt your ankle, but I’m glad to have you back. The lab hasn’t been the same without you.” She grabs Darcy’s hand and leads her towards the elevators. “Come on, we have a little welcome home party for you. I forced Tony to put it together because you deserve it, and he can afford it.”

“Don’t let Dr. Foster fool you, I was glad to do it. No strong-arming necessary Short Stuff,” Tony laughs affectionately. Darcy smiles, smiles like she hasn’t since she left Jane on the tarmac when she went away. She trails behind them, fingers intertwined with Jane’s and for a moment she forgets the hell of the past few weeks. Part of her wants to turn back, to look at Brock, but she doesn’t. She piles into the elevators with her friends, and she feels safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	20. A Rocky Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's first hours back home don't go terribly well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said this semester would probably be less stressful? Hahahahaha I was so naive. Nevertheless, I will not abandon this work because I'm too invested now!

Darcy leans her head sleepily against Jane’s shoulder. The two of them are crammed on the couch with Thor, the rest of the Avengers spread out throughout the common area. Steve and Sam have taken up position on the loveseat, Tony is rummaging around in the kitchen, and Clint is perched on the counter while Natasha sits lightly on a barstool next to him. Bruce is snoring softly in an armchair, glasses still on, scientific journal open on his chest. Darcy feels safe, safer than she has in a long while, but there’s a strange hollowness in her chest. She doesn’t give it much thought, instead focusing on Jane, who’s been monologuing.

“I’m just saying you should take at least tomorrow off, you know, give yourself some time to settle in.” Darcy rolls her eyes.

“I’m coming to the lab tomorrow and you can’t stop me. I missed you.”

“Is it that? Or do you just want more face time with the hunky new security guy,” Janes punches her shoulder good-naturedly.

“What? Who?” Darcy asks dumbly.

“Don’t play dumb Darce, I totally saw him checking you out when you got off the plane. You should go for it.” Darcy doesn’t know what to say, but before she can open her mouth, the team chimes in.

“He’s a STRIKE guy. I’ve worked with him a few times I think,” Steve pipes up from the loveseat. “Can’t remember his name though…”

“Rumlow,” Natasha intones neutrally. Darcy turns to face her. “I’ve never cared for the STRIKE teams. Too brutish, unrefined.” Their eyes meet, and Natasha regards Darcy coolly, as if inspecting her. Darcy turns away quickly but feels Natasha’s eyes on the back of her head. Steve laughs.

“Now Nat, no need to be an elitist, we can’t all be as skilled at stealth as you,” he says, winking at her. Natasha sniffs imperiously and slips off the bar stool silently.  She walks soundlessly to the elevators and disappears.

“I still can’t figure out how she walks so quietly. Even in heels,” exclaims Jane. The team laughs, but Darcy feels cold.  _ She knows. I don’t know how she knows, but she knows. They’re not gonna let you stay here once they know. You’re too much of a liability. _

The rest of the team carries on, joking and talking, but Darcy feels almost like a zombie. She’s torn between telling the team right now, just spilling her guts, and waiting for Rumlow out of a twisted sense of loyalty to him and the plan. She goes through the rest of the evening in a fog. She gets back to her rooms, showers, gets ready for bed, but there’s an emptiness in her chest that’s becoming more and more difficult to ignore. She decides on a mug of hot cocoa to soothe her and get her to sleep. She putters around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients. She closes the fridge door, milk in hand, and turns around to see Natasha seated calmly at the island, as if she had been invited in. 

“Shit!” Darcy cries out in shock, almost dropping the milk. Her hand goes to her chest, and her heart feels like it’s going to pop.

“So how long have you been bonded to Commander Rumlow, Darcy?”

“What?”

“Should I ask again?”

“I’m not-“

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Darcy. I can smell through scent camouflage. By my estimation, it’s still pretty fresh.”

“Maybe a week? But it’s not what you think! I didn’t want to,” the last part comes out as a whisper, so softly Darcy isn’t sure she even says it aloud. She looks down, almost embarrassed.

“Did he force you?” Natasha’s voice has gone eerily cold, her eyes like daggers.

“It’s not that simple,” Darcy mutters.

“It is though.” She looks over at Darcy carefully. “Who do you want me to call?”

“No one. Just give me until tomorrow.”

“At least let me get Jane.” Darcy feels the tears start to slip down her cheeks. She shakes her head. “Darcy, please just let me call her. Just to get you through tonight,” Natasha whispers, uncharacteristically soft.

“No,” Darcy says shakily. “I’m fine.” Natasha looks at her, doubtful.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Natasha says softly. She slips off the stool gracefully. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” She silently walks to the door and turns back to Darcy. “No one is going to be mad at you, Darcy. No one will blame you for anything that’s happened to you. I hope you know that.” She shuts the door behind her without a sound.

All at once, the adrenaline leaves Darcy, and she slumps against the counter. The sobs are silent at first, but once the first sound escapes her, she can’t stop. She collapses onto the floor of the kitchen, cold tile presses against her skin. She lays there, crying loudly, for what feels like a long time. There’s a hollow feeling in her chest that hasn’t left since she got off the plane earlier. Part of her wants to call for Jane, have her swoop in and hold her and watch Golden Girls on the couch with a pile of blankets. But there’s another part of her, a part that Darcy is deeply ashamed of, wants Brock to scoop her up and make her feel better. The thought of needing him like that turns her stomach. She realizes she’s been projecting all her emotions through the bond. And he’s not here, he hasn’t come to help her. He’s abandoned her. The idea guts her, it’s more devastating than she thought it would be. She staggers to her bedroom and collapses onto the bed gracelessly. Eventually, she slips into a restless sleep, exhausted.

(Elsewhere in the tower)

The gun cocks softly in the dark, and Rumlow’s eyes fly open at the sound, but he remains motionless, calculating his options.

“You’ve got three seconds to explain yourself Rumlow before I blow your head off,” a voice whispers silkily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it!


	21. Natasha Knows All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaaaaahhh so I've tentatively outlined the rest of the story! I'm sort of torn as to whether I like how it goes, but we'll see. At this point it looks like there'll be 30 chapters (honestly probably a few more tbh).

The gun cocks softly in the dark, and Rumlow’s eyes fly open at the sound, but he remains motionless, calculating his options.

“You’ve got three seconds to explain yourself Rumlow before I blow your head off,” a voice whispers silkily. Brock grins broadly up at the ceiling.

“I’m calling your bluff Romanoff. You know damn well you can’t kill me. She’ll be dead within a week.”

“Fair enough,” Natasha muses. She shifts the gun from his head and points it lower, at his crotch. “I’ll shoot off something more important, then.” Brock stiffens under the blankets. “Listen closely. You will tell me everything about the circumstances of your bonding Darcy Lewis. Now.”

Brock pulls himself up into a sitting position, eyeing Natasha carefully.

“Where to begin?” he muses.

“Don’t play coy with me. Why did you bond her? I know for a fact that when she left she had no intention of bonding, it’s completely out of character,” Natasha snarls.

“I was in a rut. She was given to me to bond,” he says, looking down, unable to meet Natasha’s eye. Her hand tightens on the gun ever so slightly, barely noticeable. “I was following orders, okay?” Brock sighs, exasperated, and a bit ashamed.

“Whose orders?” She snaps at him, turning the gun a minute amount.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me. The only thing stopping me from maiming you is your continued cooperation.”

“HYDRA.” There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, but it isn’t surprise. Not by a long shot. “You know. You know they’re still around,” Rumlow utters, incredulous.

“I’ve suspected. Especially since the STRIKE team was modified. I can smell that on you too. But there was no record in the SHIELD databases of it happening.”

“Who else knows?” Rumlow whispers.

“Myself. Director Fury. A few trusted others. Difficult to suss out who can be trusted,” she narrows her eyes at him.

“I could help with that,” he blurts out.

“And why would we trust you?” Natasha demands coldly. Rumlow says nothing, face suddenly twisting up in pain. Through the bond, he can feel Darcy’s distress, her sadness, her fear. He tries to school his face into a mask of indifference. He holds himself still, resisting the urge to rush past Romanoff and barrel through the tower to Darcy. Natasha lets out a sharp laugh. 

“What?” Rumlow growls.

“Figured you out,” she smirks. She leans in close to him. “She deserves better than you. And you need to stay the fuck away from her. Don’t project your fixation with her onto her feelings for you. What she feels for you is a byproduct of the chemical changes of the bond, nothing more, nothing less. She doesn’t love you, you are her rapist. And I will be damned if I let you take advantage of her dependence on you. You’re scum,” she hisses malevolently. Brock says nothing, he doesn’t protest because he knows deep down she’s right.

“I’ll cooperate. Do whatever you need me to do. Just keep her safe,” he murmurs dejectedly.

“That’s what I thought,” Natasha says snarkily. She slinks out the door without a sound, and Rumlow is alone again. He slumps back down into the bed and stares up at the ceiling blankly. He’s not sure how much time passes, but his bedroom lightens around him as the sun comes up. He pulls himself out of bed to start his day, going through the motions zombie-like. Showering, pulling on the SHIELD uniform, he feels hollow almost, yet full of self-loathing for not going to Darcy the night before, when she was clearly distressed. 

He walks quickly and quietly to the lab, knowing she’ll be there. He stops in front of the glass doors, practically vibrating with anticipation. He can see her at her desk, makeup done like it had been yesterday, curly hair swept up into a messy bun, her honey-colored oversized sweater slipping slightly off her shoulder. The hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach is gone. She glances up at him, and their eyes meet for a moment, and he feels a zing of electricity course through him. He smiles and she looks away quickly. He steps forward and the glass door to the labs slides open. Neither Darcy nor Doctor Foster looks up from their work.

“Jane, the security guy is here,” Darcy calls out. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, and he tries to meet her gaze again but fails.

“Tell him to just stand in the corner or something,” Jane yells from behind a stack of papers. Darcy smiles and holds back a giggle.

“Pretty sure he just heard you, Janey,” she says lightly. Jane just grumbles in response. “You heard the boss – stand in the corner or something,” Darcy says to Brock, trying to be serious, but failing. 

“Yes ma’am,” Brock replies, giving Darcy a subtle wink. She blushes and ducks her head to focus back on her work. Brock turns and takes up a post by the door, trying not to stare at Darcy too openly.

They stay like that for a while, Darcy typing away and puttering around the lab, and Brock trying and failing not to have his eyes glued to her like some creep. He sees four figures coming down the hallway rather quickly. He braces himself for a fight but in a split second realizes that the figures are Avengers. Even from a distance, he recognizes them as Rogers, Stark, Thor, and Stark’s…everything Pepper Potts. Pepper seems to be trying to calm down the other three, who seem to be upset. The doors slide open and they flood into the lab, the anger palpable, rolling off them.

Rumlow steps out of the way, but instead of heading further into the lab, they turn to face him. Rogers looks furious, jaw clenched and a vein popping out in his forehead. Stark looks like he wants to throw himself at Rumlow. Pepper looks more distraught than angry. But Thor. There are no windows in the lab, but Brock is certain the sky must be pitch black and crackling with electricity. 

“You have much explaining to do, Commander,” Thor bellows. He reaches for Rumlow, and the lights in the lab begin to flicker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!


	22. A Plan Is Formulated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers get an explanation and start on a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Long time no see! Sorry for the super long delay, just had the worst/most difficult semester of my life. But this summer I should have more opportunities to write. I have the rest of the story outlined, and we're maybe ten chapters or so out from the end!

“JARVIS, engage privacy protocols for the lab. Immediately,” barks Pepper. The glass exposing them to the hallway frosts over, shielding them from view, the cameras in the room click off, red lights extinguishing. Thor has Rumlow pinned to the wall by his throat, as the rest of them stare wide-eyed. Brock glances back and forth, between Darcy’s wide eyes and gaping mouth, and Thor’s enraged face. He takes a deep, steadying breath.

“I’m only going to ask this once, so I’ll ask nicely,” Rumlow hisses, “Put me the fuck down or this will get ugly.” Thor smiles good-naturedly and moves to drop him. Rogers chuckles behind him, placing his hand on Thor’s shoulder.

“You’re hardly in a position to make demands,” Roger says coolly, his expression hard. Rumlow can see the betrayal lurking right behind his eyes. A small part of him revels in Rogers’ pain, but feeling Darcy’s anxiety through the bond gives him pause. He can see her over the shoulders of Thor and Rogers, eyes watering, as she wipes away stray tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

Quickly, Rumlow kicks out at Thor’s chest with enough force to push him backward, dropping Rumlow’s throat. Rumlow lands lightly and immediately puts his hands up if a gesture of surrender. The Avengers present are standing aghast, Stark’s jaw is practically on the floor.

“Holy Fuck,” mutters a voice from the air vent above the lab countertop.

“Barton, get Natasha,” says Rogers, his gaze still fixed on Rumlow. Rumlow grins.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. She didn’t tell you, did she?” He smirks. Rogers furrows his brow.

“She knew?” Rogers intones quietly.

“I’m surprised you can’t smell it. Thought it’d be obvious to you.”

“How long?” He growls at Rumlow.

“Since right after the mission in Guatemala.”

“Who else?”

“Me, Rollins, Hernandez, and Johnson. We were the first.”

“I thought Johnson was killed in action, the mission in Syria…” Rogers murmurs, squinting at Rumlow. Rumlow’s eyes darken and he shakes his head slightly. “Oh,” Rogers says numbly. The doors slide open with a soft hiss, and Natasha strides in soundlessly. She lets out a soft whistle.

“Wow you fucked this up royally,” she snarks. Rogers opens his mouth to respond. “ALL of you,” she says, glaring at him. “Pepper?”

“I trust your judgment. You can take the lead on this one,” Pepper says with an air of finality. Rogers knows not to say anything. Natasha nods.

“Take Rumlow to a holding cell while you figure out what to do with him. Jane, you and Thor take Darcy to medical. She needs an assessment, physical and psychiatric. I’ll lead the briefing for the team,” she says confidently.

“I’ll be in my office, I have a meeting in fifteen,” Pepper says, breezing out of the lab. No one moves for a long moment.

“You heard her,” Tony snaps, and suddenly everyone is in motion. “Make sure he’s secure on the way down,” he says sadly, eyeing Brock. “Could Thor help hold him? I could go with you guys to medical, if that’s okay with you…” he trails off, looking to Darcy. She says nothing, looking at the floor. Brock can feel her sadness radiating through the bond, but he feels powerless to fix it. He’s almost certain she’s crying. The thought of it makes his chest feel tight. “Darcy? Is that okay?” Tony asks softly. Darcy nods shakily.

“Okay,” she sniffles. Jane guides her gently out of the lab, flanked by Stark, the doors hissing shut behind her, seeming impossibly loud. Rogers looks back at Brock, the betrayal even more evident on his face.

“Are you gonna come quietly, or are we gonna have to force you down to holding?” He says in a low voice.

“I’ll come quietly,” Rumlow sighs. “But you’re gonna need to keep this on the down-low, no cameras, no nothing.” Rogers furrows his brow, not quite understanding. “The Tower’s compromised, genius,” Brock rolls his eyes.

“By who?”

“Who else?” Rumlow stares at the floor. “HYDRA.” Rogers pales and struggles to compose himself for a split second, only long enough for the super soldiers in the room to notice.

“Shit,” he snarls. “Can you ID the agents here?”

“Don’t be stupid Rogers, they’re too well organized for that,” Rumlow smiles wryly, “keeps us loyal that way too, you never know who’s watching.”

“And how do I know where your loyalties lie, Rumlow?” Brock glances at the door Darcy disappeared through just moments before.

“You should know better than most the things a person would do for a bondmate,” Rumlow murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! It's a short chapter, but I'm hoping to have a second one up later this week!


	23. Uncomfortable Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Brock and Darcy face some uncomfortable questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said I was gonna post more frequently, but tbh every weekend just makes more sense right now.

Rumlow steps gracefully into the cell, the door sliding shut behind him gently. He turns to face Rogers, peering at him through the glass. Rogers looks uncomfortable, torn even. He clears his throat.

“I need to uh, before I meet the team, uh…” he stumbles.

“You gonna interrogate me, Rogers?” Rumlow sighs.

“Yeah,” Rogers says. Rumlow gives him a stiff nod as if to encourage him on. “Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?” Rumlow frowns ever so slightly. Rogers looks upset.

“Regret bonding her like that. When she didn’t want to, when you knew she was there against her will.” Rumlow furrows his brow, pensive.

“I don’t have a good answer for you,” he mutters. Rogers looks at him questioningly. “I don’t know,” he says, “I just...don't know,” he says again, softer this time. Rogers shakes his head disapprovingly, but as he moves to walk away, Rumlow clears his throat. “Could I...could I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he sighs.

“When you...uh...when you bonded did you feel...different?” Rogers snorts, barely able to contain a laugh.

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Rogers surveys Rumlow, incredulous. Rumlow huffs in frustration.

“Not, like, different...sexually,” he says, voice low. “But...everything else.” Rogers looks puzzled. “Like, uh, maybe did the things you were working towards seem...less important somehow? Less...meaningful maybe. I dunno.” Rogers regards him carefully, assessing him.

“Yes and no. The bond manufactures a lot, but there can be genuine change,” Rogers muses. Rumlow perks up ever so slightly at that, and Rogers has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “CAN be, maybe not,” he reiterates. Rumlow deflates and Rogers turns on his heel and rushes out of the cell area.

Rumlow slumps dejectedly on the scratchy cot that’s drilled into the floor and wall. In the hallway, Rogers leans against the wall, head bent.

“Idiot. You fucking idiot, making this so much harder than it has to be,” Steve mutters to himself.

 

(At the same time, in the medical wing)

 

Dr. Cho stands in the doorway, ashen-faced and clutching some files. Darcy looks up, clutching Jane’s hand tightly. Thor pats her back reassuringly.

“So, there’s good news and bad news,” Dr. Cho says quietly.

“Bad news first,” Darcy mutters, voice strained.

“Well, we have confirmed that you’re bonded,” Dr. Cho explains. “And it’s been settled for too long for us to break the bond, if that’s what you wanted.” She looks at Darcy, apologetic. Darcy can feel the anger radiating off of Thor. She looks over at Jane and sees tears streaking down her face.

“Good news?” Darcy says blankly.

“Of course, um, well, other than that you’re in perfect health and you’re not...you’re not pregnant.”

“Thank GOD,” Jane croaks, and Darcy can feel tears building. She covers her face, rubbing her eyes to stop them.

“So, I’m assuming you’re familiar with bond care then?” Dr. Cho asks delicately.

“Yeah,” Darcy sighs from behind her hands.

“Just...don’t be too far away for too long is what I would recommend. I’ve also arranged for you to speak with Dr. Anders, our counselor on staff. Would you be okay with that?” All of them look at Darcy expectantly.

“Sure, I guess,” Darcy drops her eyes to her shoes. The last thing she wants to do is talk about this right now, but if they think it’s for the best…

“Great,” Dr. Cho says with a forced smile. “She’ll be here to collect you in a few.” She shuts the door behind her with a soft click. None of them speak while they wait, Jane crying softly and Thor stroking Darcy’s hair gently, trying to comfort her.

There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens slowly. A woman slightly older than Dr. Cho steps in. Her grey-streaked hair is held up by a large clip, and her kind eyes are bracketed by faint crows feet. Darcy smells her out inconspicuously and almost sags in relief. Omega, bonded by the smell of it.

“I’m Dr. Anders, I’m here to talk to Darcy,” she says, deliberately soft. Darcy looks up at her and nods ever so slightly. “All right, would you like to talk here, or in my office?”

“Here’s fine,” Darcy replies. Dr. Anders looks between Thor and Jane for a moment.

“I don’t mean to be indelicate, but these are conversations best had one-on-one if you wouldn’t mind giving Darcy a little privacy?” She looks at Thor and Jane, who nod and stand quickly.

“Sure,” Jane says, “we’ll give you some space. You’ll let us know when we can come back, right?”

“Of course,” Dr. Anders smiles, “I’d recommend the cafeteria one floor down.” Thor and Jane step out of the room, Jane gives her a small wave goodbye, and suddenly Darcy is alone again. Dr. Anders gives her a pitying look. “First, Darcy, I’d like to tell you how sorry I am that you’re going through this. An unwanted bond can be a deeply traumatic event. How about we start by going through what happened, and you can skip over anything you don’t want to talk about in detail. That sound good?”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Darcy mumbles. Her growing panic must be written on her face because before she can start, Dr. Anders stops her.

“Before you start, just take a deep breath, okay?” Darcy stops and focuses on her breathing for a moment.

“So I was getting on the Quinjet, and when I landed, they took me to medical. They gave me a bunch of shots, and one made me pass out. I woke up, and um…” Darcy stops to catch her breath, desperately trying not to think too hard about it. “And they got me ready for him, and then..then it happened,” she finishes, slumping down in her seat.

“Okay, deep breaths,” Dr. Anders reminds her. “So this alpha-your alpha, what can you tell me about him?”

“Um, he’s taller than me, has dark hair and dark eyes, I guess…” Darcy trails off.

“Mmhmm, and how did he act?” Dr. Anders regards her cautiously. Seeing her discomfort she adds, “After the bonding I mean.”

“Um, he was okay I guess...I mean he’s a bad guy, and I’m really really angry at him for what he did to me, especially since it can’t be fixed. I like the idea of him getting better and stuff, I just don’t know how possible that is. I just can’t imagine a way that it all works out, you know?” Dr. Anders nods thoughtfully, tapping her pen against her lip gently.

“After the bonding, was he affectionate towards you?” Darcy looks at her, disgusted.

“What does that have to do with anything? He’s not the good guy here,” she snaps. Dr. Anders sighs.

“I’m sorry,” she says, giving her another pitying look, which is starting to be irritating to Darcy. “I do have to get a general idea of how you were treated after the bonding, if nothing else to see what our options are going forward.”

“Options?”

“Well, in cases like this, with the bond permanent, there are a few different ways to handle it, which we can get into later.” Darcy nods, satisfied with her answer. “Do you think your alpha is more, less, or just as amenable to the bond as you are?” Darcy cringes. “Sorry, I have to ask. It’s on the form,” she says, turning her clipboard around to show Darcy.

“That’s horribly phrased,” Darcy grouses.

“I know, but I do have to ask.” Darcy sighs, thinking about how Rumlow has acted for the last few days.

“Just as amenable, probably more amenable.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Anders remarks, jotting some things down and checking some boxes. “Since the bond, would you say that your opinions of yourself and those around you have shifted or stayed the same?”

“That’s a dumb question. Changed. I’m mad at myself. Even though I know it’s not my fault, I’m still upset that I didn’t do more to fight it.” Dr. Anders nods, checking more boxes and jotting a few things down.

“That’s a perfectly normal response. With time and therapy, I’m sure you could work through that. Same question, but for your alpha.” Darcy wrinkles her nose.

“How should I know? I barely know him.” Dr. Anders murmurs her agreement.

“If you had to guess, I mean. Would you say his view of himself or those around him have shifted? What he values or is loyal to?” Darcy feels her stomach drop, and suddenly she feels very cold, shivering almost, though a moment before she was fine. Her mouth feels dry and she can feel her heart start to beat faster and faster.

“What do you know about his loyalties?”

(Back in Rumlow’s cell)

As soon as Rumlow feels Darcy’s terror through the bond, he starts banging on the door to his cell and yelling for Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	24. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha runs the briefing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than usual, but still packed with drama.

“Well, based on the tracking device, we can see that they know our tech well enough to shut Darcy’s off remotely,” Natasha says, looking intently at a satellite image projected onto the screen. A red line, clearly meant to be Darcy’s location, stretches from the city outwards, until it stops suddenly. Tony whistles quietly.

“Smart enough to know to cut it off before we could easily determine where the Quinjet took her,” he mutters.

“We have the records of the crew?” Natasha asks.

“Absolutely. I’m having Jarvis run an algorithm to determine who else in the tower is likely compromised. Any updates J?”

“As I said ten minutes ago, building such a deep learning model takes time and a great deal of computing power. I will update you when I have a result,” Jarvis intones, as irritated as one would expect given the circumstances.

“Never give an AI the chance to express tone, it never works out in your favor,” Tony sighs.

“In the meantime, we need a plan going forward. We need all SHIELD personnel out of the tower, and the area secured. All without arousing significant suspicion.” Natasha says.

“We could just deactivate everyone’s keycards when they leave for the day,” Bruce suggests. Natasha looks at him, unimpressed.

“I thi-” Natasha is interrupted by the conference room door opening. Jane and Thor slide quickly into chairs, trying not to bring attention to themselves. “What are you two doing here?”

“The Lady Darcy is speaking to the counselor, and we were instructed to respect her privacy,” Thor explains. A momentary look of rage crosses Natasha’s face before she stops herself.

“So to be clear,” she says, teeth gritted, voice dangerously low, “given the current circumstances, you decided the best thing to do was to leave Darcy alone, with someone you don’t personally know.”

“We left her with a counselor, Dr. Cho even picked the counselor…” Jane defends. There’s a heavy pause, where no one says anything, before Jarvis interrupts.

“I have an initial round of results. These are individuals who I can identify as being compromised with a certainty of greater than ninety percent.” Several ID photos appear on the screen. Jane pales, and slumps over in her seat, passed out from shock.

Dr. Anders’ kind eyes look down at the Avengers from the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My uneasiness with doctors is *obviously* a trope that I continue to lean on. Oh well. Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!


End file.
